The Black Mountain

He hung up. "They'" ca11 back'" he informed me. No bones got brol^n. His instructions came a minute before the door opened to admit Wolfe. I went and opened the gate in the railing, and Wo^ stepped through. "This way," I said ar^ steered him to the corridor and along to the room. The doctor had g^t the ^ that had entered between the fiftn and slxth nbs3 and was going for the on^ lower down- I saw that from three paces o^ where J stoPPed Wolfe went on until tt^ P^ of hlm that is farthest front, his midd^ was touching the edge of the table. Tt^ doctor recognized him and spoke. "I understand he ^as a friend of ^ovirss Mr. Wolfe." "He was," Wolfe s^ a little louder than necessary. He moved sidewise, reached a hand, put fingertips under Marko's chin, and pushed the jaw HP s0 that the mouth 13 closed; but when he took his hand away the lips parted again. He turned his head to frown at the doctor. "That'll be arranged," the doctor assured him. Wolfe nodded. He put fingers and a thumb into his vest pocket, withdrew them, and showed the doctor two small coins. "These are old dinars. I would like to fulfill a pledge made many years ago." The scientist said sure, go ahead, and Wolfe reached to Marko's face again, this time to place the coins on the eyes. The head was twisted a little, and he had to level it so the coins would stay put. He turned away. "That's all. I have no further commitment to the clay. Come, Archie." I followed him out and along the corridor to the front. The dick who had been my escort, there chinning with the sergeant, told me I didn't need to sign a statement and asked Wolfe if he verified the identification. Wolfe said he did and added, "Where's Mr. Cramer?" "Sorry, I couldn't tell you." Wolfe turned to me. "I told the driver to wait. You said East Fifty-fourth Street. Marko's address?" "Right." 14 "We'll go there." He went, and I followed. That taxi ride uptown broke a precedent. Wolfe's distrust of machinery is such that he is never in a condition to talk when he is being conveyed in something on wheels, even when I am driving, but that time he mastered it. He asked me questions about Marko Vukcic. I reminded him that he had known Marko a lot longer and better than I had, but he said there were some subjects which Marko had never discussed with him but might have with me � for example, his relations with women. I agreed that was logical, but said that as far as I knew Marko hadn't wasted time discussing his relations with women, he just went ahead and enjoyed them. I gave an instance. When, a couple of years previously, I had taken one named Sue Dondero to Rusterman's for dinner, Marko had cast an eye on her and contributed a bottle of one of his best clarets, and the next day had phoned to ask if I would care to give him her address and phone number, and I had done so and crossed her off. Wolfe asked why. I said to give her a break. Marko, sole owner of Rusterman's, was a wealthy man and a widower, and Sue might hook him. But she hadn't, Wolfe said. No, I agreed, as far as I knew there had been 15 something wrong with the ignition. "What the hell," the hackie grumbled, braking. Having turned off Park Avenue into Fiftyfourth Street, he had made to cross Lexington, and a cop had waved him down. The cab stopped with a jerk that justified Wolfe's attitude toward machinery, and the hackie stuck his head out and objected. "My fare's number is in that block, officer." "Can't help it. Closed. Up or down." He yanked the wheel, and we swung to the curb. I paid him, got out, and held the door, and Wolfe emerged. He stood a moment to take a deep breath, and we headed east. Ten paces along there was another cop, and a little farther on still another. Ahead, in the middle of the block, was a convention: police cars, spotlights, men working, and a gathering of citizens on the sidewalk across the street. On our side a stretch of the sidewalk was included in a roped-off area. As we approached it a cop got in the way and commanded, "Cross over and keep moving."