The Rubber Band

Wolfe said, "He was walking along the sidewalk, and someone going by in an automobile shot him five times. He was dead when a passerby reached him. The automobile has been found, empty of course, on Ninth Avenue."

Clara Fox gasped incredulously, "Harlan Scovil!" Hilda Lindquist sat with her fists suddenly clenched and her lower lip pushing her upper lip toward her nose. Mike Walsh was glaring at Wolfe. He exploded suddenly,

"Ye're a howling idiot!"

Wolfe's being called an idiot twice in one evening was certainly a record. I made a note to grin when I got time. Clara Fox was saying, "But Mr. Wolfe… it can't… how can…"

Walsh went on exploding, "So you hear of some shooting, and you want to smell my gun? Ye're an idiot! Of all the dirty-" He stopped himself sud- denly and leaned on his hands on his knees, and his eyes narrowed. He looked pretty alert and competent for a guy seventy years old. "To hell with that. Where's Harlan? I want to see him."

Wolfe wiggled a finger at him. "Compose yourself, Mr. Walsh. All in time. As you see, Miss Fox, this is quite a complication."

"It's terrible. Why… it's awful. He's really killed?"

Hilda Lindquist spoke suddenly. "I didn't want to come here. I told you that. I thought it was a wild goose chase. My father made me. I mean, he's old and sick and he wanted me to come because he thought maybe we could get enough to save the farm."

Wolfe nodded. "And now, of course…"

Her square chin stuck out. "Now I'm glad I came, I've often heard my father talk about Harlan Scovil. He would have been killed anyway, whether I came or not, and now I'm glad I'm here to help. You folks will have to tell me what to do, because I don't know. But if that marquis thinks he can refuse to talk to us and then shoot us down on the street… we'll see."

"I haven't said the marquis shot him. Miss Lindquist."

"Who else did?"

I thought from her tone she was going to tell him not to be an idiot, but she let it go at that and looked at him.