Some Buried Caesar

"Do you claim the bull killed him?" Osgood demanded. "I don't claim anything." McMillan lifted his sagging shoul- ders. "Don't get me wrong, Fred. I told you I came to see you because the others, except Pratt, were afraid to. I don't claim anything. What they say is this, that the main difficulty with supposing that Clyde climbed into the pasture himself was to try to figure what for. I said myself this morning that it was dumb as hell for anybody to imagine that he went in there to get the bull, because that would have been plain crazy and Clyde wasn't a lunatic. What could he have intended to do with him? You can't hide a bull in a barrel. But when Caesar was found dead of anthrax… it was Captain Barrow who suggested it first as a possibility… that might account for Clyde entering the pasture. As you know, anthrax can be communicated subcutaneously, or by contact, or by ingestion. If Caesar was fed something last night, something that had been activated… well…"

Involuntarily I hunched forward and drew my feet under me, ready to move. Frederick Osgood was stiff, and his eyes glassy, with cold rage. His chronic scowl had been merely funny, but he didn't look funny now. He said in a composed and icy tone:

"Look out, Monte. By God, look out. If you're suggesting that my son deliberately poisoned that bull…"

McMillan said gruffly, "I'm not suggesting anything. I've told you I came here as a messenger. The fact is, I wanted to come, because I thought you ought to be warned by a friend. Waddell's attitude, and Captain Barrow's, is that it was you who insisted on an investigation, and if there is any part of it you don't like you've got yourself to thank for it. Anyhow, they'll be here any minute now, with the idea of finding out where Clyde had been the past few days and whether he had access, or could have had access, to any source of an- thrax."

"Anybody who comes here-" Osgood had to stop to control his voice "-with that idea can go away again. So can you. It… it's infamous." He began to tremble. "By God-"

"Mr. Osgood!" It was Wolfe, using his sharpest tone. "Didn't I warn you? I said annoyance, intrusion, plague. Mr. McMillan is perfectly correct, you have yourself to thank for it."

"But I don't have to tolerate-"