"Yes."

"You had them then, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Where did you get them?"

"I found them in the pocket of my robe-the green robe I put on over my fencing costume."

"What do you mean, you found them?"

"I just mean that. Isn't that a good word-found?"

"Sure, it's a swell word. It's a beaut. How and when and why did you find them?"

"Just a moment, Mr Cramer." It was Wolfe, in a tone that meant business. "Miss Tormic is a stranger in this country. Either I advise her to say nothing whatever and I get a lawyer for her, or I will tell her one or two things myself-at this point."

"What do you want to tell her?"

"You will hear it." Wolfe wiggled a finger. "Miss Tormic. It is unlikely that you will be charged with murder as long as the alibi furnished by Mr Faber is unimpeached. That is, remains good. You can, however, be put under arrest as a material witness-a device to prevent you from running away-and then be released under a bond to appear when needed. You have been asked to give a circumstantial account of your connexion with the instrument of murder, which you have admitted was in your possession shortly after the crime was committed. Your words are being taken down by a stenographer. If you give that account, you will be committed to it as the truth, so it had better be the truth. If you refuse to give it, you will probably be arrested as a material witness. You must decide for yourself. Have I made it clear?"

"Yes," she said, and smiled at him. "I think I understand that all right. There's no reason why I shouldn't tell the truth; it's the only thing I can do-now." She shifted her eyes to Cramer. "It was in the office, when we were all in there, waiting for the police to come. I put my hand in the pocket of my robe and there was something in there. It's a big pocket, quite big. I started to pull it out to see what it was, but the feel of it told me it must be a fencing glove. I tried to think what to do. I knew it shouldn't be there-I mean I knew I hadn't put it there. For a minute I was scared, but I made myself think. Mr Ludlow had been killed in the fencing room where I had been fencing with him, and there I was with a wadded-up glove in my pocket, and if we were searched. " She upturned a palm. "I looked around for a place to put it and saw Mr Goodwin's coat. I knew it must be his, because the others were all upstairs in their lockers, and I knew he had come there anyway to get me out of trouble-so I went over to it and when I thought no one was looking I took it out of my pocket and put it in his."

"Very much obliged-"

"Shut up, Goodwin! Do you realize what you're trying to tell me, Miss Tormic?"

"I. I think I do."

"You're trying to tell me that you had a bulky thing like that in your pocket and didn't know it."

"So am I," I put in. "The same goes for me."

"I know damn well it does! Did I ask you to close your trap? What about it, Miss Tormic?"

She shook her head. "I don't know-of course I was excited. It's a loose robe and it's a big pocket. I had it on-you saw it."

"Yeah, I saw it. So you admit you concealed evidence of a crime?"

"Is that. wrong?"

"Hell, no. Oh, my, no. And do you know who put it in your pocket?"

"No."

"Of course you don't. Or when?"

"No." Neya frowned. "I have thought about that. I left the robe in the locker room, lying on a bench, when I went to the end room to fence. After I left Mr Ludlow there and met Mr Faber in the hall, I stopped in the locker room to leave my pad and glove and mask, and put on the robe and went with Mr Faber to the alcove. Whoever put the glove in my pocket, I don't think they did it until afterwards, because I think I would have noticed it. After the porter started to yell, we were all running around and jostling against each other-and I suppose someone did it then. that's the only way I can explain how it might have happened-"

"And you knew nothing about it."

"I knew nothing about it until I felt something in my pocket there in the office."

"And you were scared. You were just simply perfectly innocent."

"Yes. I was. I am."

"Sure. But though you were perfectly innocent, you didn't tell the police about it, and you weren't going to tell about it, and you never would have told about it, if Madame Zorka hadn't reported that she saw you do it and you were afraid to deny it!" He was yapping into her face at a range of thirty inches. "Huh?"

"I-" She swallowed, "I think I might. But the way I thought about it, I thought Mr Goodwin would find it in his pocket and turn it over to you, and it wouldn't matter whether you knew it had ever been in my pocket or not."

"Then you thought wrong. Mr Goodwin doesn't turn things over to the police. Mr Goodwin climbs a fence and runs home to papa and says see what I got, and papa says-"

"Nonsense!" Wolfe cut in sharply. "We'll dispose of that point now. You know what I told you; I don't need to repeat it. Granted that your suppositiiious assumpiion is correct, that Archie knew it was in his pocket and ran away with it, and that we concealed it from you, you can't possibly establish it as a fact, so why the devil waste time harping on it? Especially in view of a fact that is established, that when Madame Zorka's phone call caused us to investigate the overcoat pocket, we immediately communicated with you."

"You had to!"

Wolfe grimaced. "I don't know. Had to? Ingenuity can nearly always create an alternative if none exists. Anyway, we did. And if we hadn't, but had proceeded without you, your two missing objects would still be missing, for when Archie and Miss Tormic called on Madame Zorka she would have been gone, and the compulsion of her threatened exposure would have been removed. So you owe your possession of these two objects to us. You owe your knowledge of a suspicious circumstance, Madame Zorka's flight with a bag and suitcase, to us. And you owe your knowledge of the manner in which the criminal disposed of the glove and col de mort to the courageous candour of my client."

Cramer, standing, stared down at him, and as far as I could see his face was not glowing with gratitude.

He said, "So she's your client, is she?"

"I told you so."

"You said tentatively. You said you'd decide when you had met her."

"I have met her."

"All right, you've met her. Is she your client?"

"She is."

Cramer hesitated, then turned slowly and looked down at Neya. His gaze had concentration, but no acute hostility; and I suppressed a grin. I knew what was eating him. He was well aware that the time had yet to come when he would successfully pin a murder charge on any man, woman or child whom Nero Wolfe had accepted as a client, and he was strongly tempied to call it a day then and there as far as Neya Tormic was concerned and throw in another line. He even, half unconsciously, favoured Carla Lovchen with a sidewise suspicious glance, but he returned to Neya and, after a moment, wheeled again to Wolfe.

"Faber gives her an alibi. Okay. But you don't need to be told that an alibi works both ways. What if Faber thought she needed one and so he provided it? And she thought she needed it too, and accepted it and confirmed it? Without maybe realizing that while Faber was giving her an alibi, what he was really doing was arranging one for himself?"

Wolfe nodded. "An old trick, but still a good one. That's quite possible, of course. Will you have some beer?"

"No."

"You, Miss Tormic, Miss Lovchen?"

He got their declinations, pressed the button and went on: "This thing's messy, Mr Cramer. It looks as if I'm going to have to find out who killed Mr Ludlow, unless you do it first yourself. You certainly aren't going to get anywhere badgering my client. Look at her. I'll have a little talk with her after you leave, and one thing I shall tell her is to hang on to the Faber alibi, for the present, even if it was fabricated by him. True, it protects Faber, but it also protects her. If and when you can point a suspicion at Faber, especially a motive, let me know and we'll discuss the alibi business."