Part 21 (1/2)
Hibbard is with us. Mr. Goodwin and I I are gratified that we were able to play the Stanley to his Livingstone. As to the to look at him and the talking had stopped. He inclined his head and used his resonance: ”Good evening, gentlemen.”
Then he faced the door and nodded at Fritz, who was standing on the threshold.
Fritz moved aside, and Andrew Hibbard walked in.
That started the first uproar. Pratt and Mike Ayers were the quickest to react.
They both yelled ”Andy!” and jumped for him. Others followed. They encircled him, shouted at him, grabbed his hands and pounded him on the back. They had him hemmed in so that I couldn't see any of him, to observe what kind of psychology he was taking it with. It was easy to imagine, hearing them and looking at them, that they really liked Andy Hibbard. Maybe even Drummond and Bowen liked him; you've got to take the bitter along with the sweet.
Wolfe had eluded the stampede. He had got to his desk and lowered himself into his chair, and Fritz had brought him beer.
I looked at him, and was glad I did, for it wasn't often he felt like winking at me and I wouldn't have wanted to miss it. He returned my look and gave me the wink, and I grinned at him. Then he drank some beer.
The commotion went on a while longer.
Mike Ayers came over to Wolfed desk and said something which I couldn't hear on account of the noise, and Wolfe nodded and replied something. Mike Ayers went back and began shooing' them into chairs, and Cabot and Farrell helped him.
They subsided. Pratt took Hibbard by the arm and steered him to one of the big armchairs, and then sat down next to him and took out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes. a Wolfe started the ball rolling. He sat pretty straight, his forearms on the arms of his chair, his chin down, his eyes open on them.
”Gentlemen. Thank you for coming here this evening. Even if we should later come to disagreement, I am sure we are in accord as to the felicitous nature of our preamble. We are all glad that Mr.
Hibbard is with us. Mr. Goodwin and I I are gratified that we were able to play the Stanley to his Livingstone. As to the particular dark continent that Mr. Hibbard chose to explore, and the method of our finding him, those details must wait for another occasion, since we have more pressing business. I believe it is enough at present to say that Mr. Hibbard's disappearance was a venture on his own account, a sally in search of education.
That is correct, Mr. Hibbard?”
They all looked at Hibbard. He nodded. ”That's correct.”
Wolfe took some papers from his drawer, spread them out, and picked one up. I have here, gentlemen, a copy of the memorandum of our agreement. One of my undertakings herein was to remove from you all apprehension and expectation of injury from the person or persons responsible for the disappearance of Andrew Hibbard. I take it that that has been accomplished? You have no fear of Mr. Hibbard himself? Good. Then that much is done.” He paused to look them over, face by face, and went on. ”For the rest, it will be necessary to read you a doc.u.ment.” He put the memorandum down and picked up another paper, sheets clipped to a brown paper jacket. ”This, gentlemen, is dated November twelfth, which is today. It is signed with the name of Paul Chapin. At the top it is headed, CONFESSION OF PAUL CHAPIN.
REGARDING THE.
DEATHS OF WILLIAM R. HARRISON.
AND.
EUGENE DREYER AND THE WRITING.
AND.
DISPATCHING OF CERTAIN.
INFORMATIVE AND.
THREATENING VERSES.
It reads as follows-”
Cabot the lawyer b.u.t.ted in. He would.
He interrupted: ”Mr. Wolfe. Of course this is interesting, but in view of what has happened do you think it's necessary?”
”Quite.” Wolfe didn't look up. ”If you will permit me: va ^ 7, Paul Chapin, of 203 Perry Street, New York City, hereby confess that I ”was in no way concerned in the death of g Judge William R. Harrison. To the best of my knowledge and belief his death was accidental. f] I further confess that I was in no way concerned in the death of Eugene Dreyer.
To the best of my knowledge and belief he committed suicide.
I further confess -ff There was an explosive snort from Mike Ayers, and mutterings from some of the others. Julius Adier's mild sarcastic voice took the air: ”This is drivel. Chapin has maintained throughout -”
Wolfe stopped him, and all of them.
”Gentlemen! Please. I ask your indulgence.
If you will withhold comments until the end.”,-11'1 '”V... *1 -^ Drummond squeaked, ((Let him finish,'' and I made a mental note to give him an extra drink. Wolfe continued: {t! further confess that the verses received by certain persons on three separate occasions were composed, typed and mailed by me. They were intended to convey by inference the information that I had killed Harrison, Dreyer and Hibbard, and that it was my purpose to kill others. They were typed on the typewriter in the alcove of the smoking-room at the Harvard Club, a fact which was discovered by Nero Wolfe. That ends my confession. The rest is explanation, which I offer at Nero Wolfe's request.
The idea of the verses, which came to me after Harrison's death, was at first only one of the fantasies which occupy a mind accustomed to invention.
I composed them. They were good, at least for one purpose, and I decided to send them. I devised details as to paper, envelopes and typing which would leave no possibility to proving that they had been sent by me. They worked admirably, beyond my expectations.
Three months later the death of Dreyer, and the circ.u.mstances under which it occurred, offered another opportunity which of course was irresistible. This was more risky than the first, since I had been present at the gallery that afternoon, but careful consideration convinced me that there was no real danger. I typed the second verses, and sent them. They were even more successful than the first ones. I need not try to describe the satisfaction it gave me to fill with trepidation and terror the insolent b.r.e.a.s.t.s which for so many years had bulged their pity at me.
They had called themselves the League of Atonement Oh yes, I knew that.
Now at last atonement had in fact begun.
I supplemented the effect of the verses verbally, with certain of my friends, whenever a safe opportunity offered, and this was more fertile with Andrew : Hibbard than with anyone else. It ended by his becoming so terrified that he ran away. I do not know where he is; it is quite possible that he killed himself. As soon as I learned of his disappearance I decided to take advantage of it. Of course if he reappeared the game was up, but I had not supposed that I could continue the business indefinitely, and this was too good a chance to be missed.
I sent the third verses. The result was nothing short of magnificent, indeed it proved to be too magnificent. I had never heard of Nero Wolfe. I went to his office that evening for the pleasure ^of seeing my friends, and to look at Wolfe. I saw that he was acute and intuitive, and that my diversion was probably at an end. An attempt was made by my wife to impress Wolfe, but it failed.
There are other points that might be touched upon, but I believe none of them require explanation. I would like to mention, though, that my testimony on the witness-stand regarding my reason for writing my novel Devil Take the Hindmost, was in my opinion a superlative bit of finesse, and Nero Wolfe agrees with me.
I will add that I am not responsible for the literary quality of this doc.u.ment.
It was written by Nero Wolfe.
Paul Chapin.ff Wolfe finished, dropped the confession to the table, and leaned back. ”Now, gentlemen. If you wish to comment.”
There were mumblings. Ferdinand Bowen, the stockbroker, spoke up: ”It seems to me Adier has commented for all of us. Drivel.”
Wolfe nodded. I can understand that viewpoint. In fact, I suppose that under the circ.u.mstances it is inevitable. But let me expound my own viewpoint. My position is that I have met my obligations under the memorandum and that the payments are due.”
”My dear sir!” It was Nicholas Cabot. ”Preposterous.” I think not. What I undertook to do was to remove your fear of Paul Chapin.
That's what it amounts to, with the facts we now have. Well: as for Andrew Hibbard, here he is. As for the deaths of Harrison and Dreyer, it should have been obvious to all of you, from the beginning, that Chapin had nothing to do with them.
You had known him all his mature life. I had merely read his books; but I was aware last Monday evening, when you gentlemen were here, that Chapin could not possibly commit a premeditated murder, and not even an impromptu one unless suddenly demented. And you, Mr.
Hibbard, a psychologist! Have you read Chapin's books? Why are they so concerned with murder and the delight of it? Why does every page have its hymn to violence and the brute beauty of vehement action? Or, to change heroes, why did I Nietzsche say Thou goest to woman, forget not thy whip? Because he had not the temerity to touch a woman with the tip of a goose-feather. The truth is that Paul Chapin did murder Harrison and Dreyer and all of you. He has murdered you, and will doubtless do so again, in his books.
Let him, gentlemen, and go on breathing.
”No. Harrison and Dreyer and Hibbard are out of it. Consult the memorandum.