Prisoner's Base

"Pfui. That's childish, Mr. Bowen. I had no evidence. You have had every scrap of information I have had, and the services of Mr. Goodwin to boot, which is a great advantage when his head is on straight. I had started, remember, with pure hypothesis, in an effort to account for the murder of Mrs. Fomos as a preamble to the murder of Miss Eads. In fact, I had started with several different hypotheses, but by far the most attractive was this: that someone in Caracas had got hold of the document Miss Eads, then Mrs. Hagh, had signed, giving her husband a half interest in her property, and was impersonating Hagh to make the claim; that, deciding he would have to come to New York in person to press the claim, he had determined to get rid of the only two people who, because they knew Hagh, made his appearance here impossible; and that either he came here himself and killed them, or contrived it.

"It became more than hypothesis when Mrs. Jaffee was killed. The killer had got her keys from her bag here that evening, and, so far as was known, no one else, of those present, had the slightest motive for killing Mrs. Jaffee. And my contradiction was resolved. Mrs. Jaffee had realized that Eric Hagh was not the man whose picture had been sent her by her friend six years ago, but she had not denounced him because it was not in her character to do so. She had revealed her character with some clarity to Mr. Goodwin. She didn't like to get involved with anyone or anything. She had never gone to a stockholders' meeting of the corporation whose dividends were her only source of income. She came here Thursday to lend her name to a legal action only because she was under great obligation to Mr. Goodwin. No, she did not denounce the impostor, but indubitably she made him aware that she knew he was not Eric Hagh. She may have done so merely by the way she looked at him, or she may have asked him some naive and revealing question. In any case, he knew he was in deadly peril from her, and he acted quickly and audaciously-and with dexterity, taking her keys from her bag. No, he is not a bungler, but-"

A voice broke in. It was Dewdrop Irby, and his voice was good and loud, with no oil at all in it. "I want to state at this time, for the record, that I had no-"

"Shut up!" Cramer barked at him.

"But I want-"

"You'll get what you want. I'll deliver it personally."

Wolfe asked, "Shall I finish?"

"Yes."