Some Buried Caesar

The younger man stood up. The other just kept on frowning. "So my niece told me. Of course I've heard of you, but I don't care if you're President Roosevelt, you had no busi- ness in that pasture when my man ordered you out. What did you want in there?"

"Nothing."

"What did you go in there for?"

Wolfe compressed his lips, then loosened them to ask, "Did your niece tell you what I told her?"

"Yes "

"Do you think she lied?"

"Why… no."

"Do you think I lied?"

"Er… no."

Wolfe shrugged. "Then it remains only to thank you for your hospitality-your telephone, your accommodations, your refreshment. The beer especially is appreciated. Your niece has kindly offered to take us to Crowfield in your car… if you will permit that?"

"I suppose so." The lummox was still frowning. He leaned back with his thumbs in his armpits. "No, Mr. Wolfe, I don't think you lied, but I'd still like to ask a question or two. You see, you're a detective, and you might have been hired… God knows what lengths they'll go to. I'm being pested half to death. I went over to Crowfield with my nephew today to take a look at the exposition, and they hounded me out of the place. I had to come home to get away from them. I'll ask a straight question: did you enter that particular pasture because you knew that bull was in it?"

Wolfe stared. "No, sir."

"Did you come to this part of the country in an effort to do something about that bull?"

"No, sir. I came to exhibit orchids at the North Atlantic Exposition."

"Your choosing that pasture was pure accident?"

"We didn't choose it. It was a question of geometry. It was the shortest way to this house." After a pause Wolfe added bitterly, "So we thought"