The Second Confesion

“Exactly what,” he was asking, “is the situation? Is there a possibility that your daughter is already married to Mr Rony?” “Good God no!” “How sure are you?” “I'm sure. That's absurd-but of course you don't know her. There's no sneak in her-and anyhow, if she decides to marry him she'll tell me-or her mother-before she tells him. That's how she'd do it-” Sperling stopped abruptly and set his jaw. In a moment he let it loose and went on, “And that's what I'm afraid of, every day now. If she once commits herself it's all over. I tell you it's urgent. It's damned urgent!” Wolfe leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Sperling regarded him a while, opened his mouth and closed it again, and looked at me inquiringly. I shook my head at him. When, after another couple of minutes, he began making and unmaking fists with his big bony hands, I reassured him.

“It's okay. He never sleeps in the daytime. His mind works better when he can't see me.” Finally Wolfe's lids went up and he spoke. “If you hire me,” he told Sperling, “it must be clear what for. I can't engage to get proof that Mr Rony is a Communist, but only to find out if proof exists,” and, if it does, get it if possible. I'm willing to undertake that, but it seems an unnecessary restriction. Can't we define it a little better? As I understand it, you want your daughter to abandon all thought of marrying Mr Rony and stop inviting him to your home. That's your objective. Right?” “Yes.” “Then why restrict my strategy? Certainly I can try for proof that he's a Communist, but what if he isn't? Or what if he is but we can't prove it to your daughter's satisfaction? Why limit the operation to that one hope, which must be rather forlorn if Mr Bascom has spent a month at it and failed? Why not hire me to reach your objective, no matter how-of course within the bounds permitted to civilized man? I would have a much clearer conscience in accepting your retainer, which will be a cheque for five thousand dollars.” Sperling was considering. “Damn it, he's a Communist' “I know. That's your fixed idea and it must be humoured. I'll try that first.

But do you want to exclude all else?” “No. No, I don't.” “Good. And I have-yes, Fritz?” The door to the hall had opened and Fritz was there.

“Mr Hewitt, sir. He says he has an appointment. I seated him in the front room.”

“Yes.” Wolfe glanced at the clock on the wall. “Tell him I'll see him in a few minutes.” Fritz went, and Wolfe returned to Sperling.