"My dear sir." Wolfe wiggled a finger at him. "You can't possibly be fatuous enough to expect me to tell you that."

Barrett smiled at him. "There's always a chance that you might. Especially since there's no good reason why you shouldn't. Are you under obligation to defend the interests of anyone except Miss Tormic?"

"Yes. My own. Always my own."

"That, of course. But anyone else? I should think there would be no impropriety in your telling me if you represent any interest except that of Miss Tormic. For instance, Madame Zorka?"

Wolfe frowned. "I am always reluctant to make a present of information. Just as you are reluctant to make a present of money. You're a banker and your business is selling money; I'm a detective and mine is selling information. But I don't want to be churlish. In connexion with the activities we are speaking of, I represent no interest whatever except that of Miss Tormic."

"And, always, your own."

"Always my own."

"Good." Barrett crushed his cigarette in the tray. "That clears the way for us, I should think. Please don't think I'm fatuous. I've made some inquiries and I find you have an enviable reputation for good faith. I have a proposal to make regarding this little project my firm is interested in. This-um-business you mentioned to my son. We need your services. Nothing onerous, and certainly nothing to offend your prejudices." He pulled a little leather fold from his pocket. "I'll give you a cheque now as a retainer. Say ten thousand dollars?"

I thought to myself, what do you know about that; Donnydarling got his briber's itch honestly, by direct inheritance. Then I grinned, looking at Wolfe. One corner of his mouth was twisted a little out of line, which meant that he was suffering acute pain. It was a situation he had to face fairly often during the years I had known him, and the torture involved was in direct proportion to the number of cyphers. Ten thousand bucks would have kept a good man, even Ray Borchers, in Central America for a full year, hunting rare orchids, always with the possibility of finding one absolutely new. Or 5,000 cases of beer or 600 pounds of caviare.

He said bravely, but with somewhat more breath than the word should require, "No."

"No?"

"No."

"If I assure you that you will be expected to do nothing that will interfere with the interest you already represent? And in case my assurance doesn't satisfy you, if at any time you find your engagements in conflict you may merely return the ten thousand dollars-"

Wolfe's lip twitched. I turned my head away. But his voice showed that he had it licked: "No, sir. To return that amount of money would ruin my digestion for a week. If I could bring myself to do it, which is doubtful. No, sir. Abandon the idea. I shall accept no commission or retainer from you."

"Is that-um-definite?"

"Irrevocable."

One little vertical crease showed in the middle of Barrett's forehead. With no other sign of fits, he returned the leather fold to his breast pocket, and then regarded Wolfe with what was probably as close to an open stare as he ever got "The only recourse that leaves me," he said, with no affability left in his tone at all, "is to draw my own conclusions."

"If you find you must have a conclusion, yes, sir."

"But I confess I'm puzzled. I'm not often puzzled, but I am now. I'm not gullible enough to believe that your interest is only what you profess it to be. I have very good reasons for not believing it besides the fact that in that case there would be no explanation for your refusing my proposal. My son thinks that you are representing either London or Rome, but there are two objections to that: first, no contacts have been reported to us, and second, if that were true why would you have exposed yourself as you did last night? Is it any wonder that we regarded that as an invitation to deal?"

"I'm sorry I misled you," Wolfe murmured.

"But you're not going to tell me whom you're tied up with."

"I have no client but Miss Tormic."

"And you're not prepared to deal with us."

Wolfe shook his head, if not with enthusiasm, with finality John P. Barrett stood up. There was a vague sort of vexation on his face, like a man with a feeling that he has gone off and left something somewhere but unable to say either what it was or where he left it "I hope," he said, with an edge to his tone, "for your own sake, that you don't happen to get in our way unwittingly. We know who our opponents are, and we know how to handle them. If you're in this on your own and you're trying to play for a haul-"

"Nonsense." Wolfe cut him off. "I'm a detective working on a job. I am not apt to get in anyone's way, or perform any other manoeuvre, unwittingly I will say this. There is a possibility that in finishing up my own business I'll be compelled to interfere with yours. If that seems likely to occur, I'll let you know in advance."

Bang went another illusion I wouldn't have supposed that a man of Barrett's appearance and breeding, and especially with the clothes he was wearing, could do or say anything mean But the look in his eyes at that moment, and the tone of his voice, were plain mean and you could even say nasty All he said was, "Don't try it, Mr Wolfe. Don't try interfering with my business."

He turned to go.

Fortunately I had noticed the sound of Fritz in the hall and, passing Wolfe a signal to hold Barrett a moment, I bounced up and out, shutting the office door behind me, not in Barrett's face, for he had turned at a remark from Wolfe. As I trotted down the hall Fritz was holding the street door open and three people were entering in the shape of a sandwich: a dick, Zorka, and another dick. Without ceremony or apology I hustled them into the front room and shut them in, then trotted back to the office and nearly knocked Barrett off his pins swinging the door against him.

"Sorry, sir, I did it unwittingly."

He gave me a frosty eye and departed. I stayed there on the threshold until I saw Fritz had got him accoutred and dispatched on his way, and then told Wolfe who had come and asked him if he thought Cramer would prefer to go on looking at orchids. He told me to phone up and tell Horstmann to bring the inspector down, and I did so, and then returned to the front room for Zorka. The two dicks started to come along, and I waved them back and said I would take her to Inspector Cramer.

"We'll help you, buddy," they said, as if they were twins, and stayed as close to her as they could without being vulgar. Wolfe frowned as the four of us cluttered into the office. In a minute we were a neat half-dozen when Cramer joined us, five full-grown men against one dressmaker. One of the dicks got out a notebook and I arranged myself at my desk with mine. Wolfe leaned back with his clasped hands resting on his meal container, looking at Zorka with his eyes half shut. Cramer was scowling at her.

I had remembered the name of a girl in the Bible she resembled-Delilah. But right then she looked crumby, with puffs under her eyes, scared and nervous, and altogether anything but carefree. I was glad to notice, for Wolfe's sake, that she had snared a dark red woollen suit somewhere, and some shoes and stockings, but it was just like Wolfe to pick on that as the first means of harassing her. Naturally he was sore at her for using his fire escape.

He growled at her, "Where did you get those clothes?"

She looked at the skirt as if she hadn't realized she had it on. "Zeeze-" She stopped, frowning at him.

"I mean the clothes you're wearing. When you left here last night-this morning-all you had on was a red thing. Under your coat. Those things you're wearing now were in the bag and suitcase you took to Miss Reade's apartment. Is that right?"

"You say zey waire."

"Weren't they? Who took them to you at the Hotel Brissenden? Mr Barrett?"