Prisoner's Base

"Finding it, and learning you had scooted, he came straight here. He wanted to hire me to find you. He told me of your approaching twenty-fifth birthday, and of the communication he received recently from your former husband, now in Venezuela, regarding a document you once signed, giving him half of your property. You did sign such a document?"

"Yes."

"Wasn't that a foolish thing to do?"

"Yes, but I was a fool then, so naturally I was foolish."

"Well. When Mr. Goodwin looked at photographs of you Mr. Helmar had brought, of course he recognized you, and he managed to inform me without informing Mr. Helmar. But Mr. Helmar had already made a definite proposal. He offered to pay me ten thousand dollars and expenses if I would produce you in New York, alive and well, by the morning of June thirtieth."

"Produce me?" Priscilla laughed, but not merrily.

"That was his phrase." Wolfe leaned back and rubbed his lip with a fingertip. "The moment Mr. Goodwin recognized the photographs and informed me, I was of course in an anomalous situation. I earn a living and maintain an expensive establishment by working as a private detective. I can't afford quixotism. When I am offered a proper fee for a legitimate job in the field I cover, I don't refuse it. I need the money. So. A man I've never seen before comes and offers me ten thousand dollars to find and produce a certain object by a certain date, and by chance-by chance alone-that object is locked in a room of my house. Is there any reason why I shouldn't disclose it to him and collect my fee?"

"I see." She pressed her lips together. In a moment the tip of her tongue showed, going from left to right and back again. "That's how it is. It was lucky he brought the photographs for Mr. Goodwin to recognize, wasn't it?" Her eyes moved to me. "I suppose I should congratulate you, Mr. Goodwin?"

"It's too early to tell," I growled. "Save it."