Four people, not counting Fritz, acting as usher, entered the office. Fritz had to bring a couple of chairs from the front room.
I like to look at faces. In a good many cases, I admit, a glance will do me, but usually they have points, of one kind or another, that will stand more of an eye. Andrew Dunn looked like a nice husky kid, with a strong resemblance to pictures I had seen of his father. His sister Sara had her mother’s dark eyes of a fighting bird and the Hawthorne forehead, but her mouth and chin was something new. The other girl was a blonde in the bud who would have convinced any impartial jury that all of this great country’s anatomical scenery had not been monopolized by Hollywood. Later information disclosed that her name was Celia Fleet and that she was April Hawthorne’s secretary.
But though I like to look at faces, and those three were worthy of attention, the one that drew my gaze was the one I couldn’t see. The story had it that Noel Hawthorne’s arrow which had accidentally struck his beautiful wife had plowed diagonally across from the brow to the chin, and what was left was there behind that veil — with, it was said, one eye working — and that was what I looked at. You couldn’t help it. The gray veil was fastened to her hat and extended below her chin, and was harnessed with a strip of ribbon. No skin was in sight except her ears. She was mediumsized, with what would ordinarily be called a nice youthful figure, only with the veil and knowing why it was there, you didn’t have the feeling of anything being nice. I sat and stared at it, trying to ignore an inclination to offer somebody a ten-spot to pull the veil up, knowing that if it was done I’d probably offer another ten-spot to get it pulled down again.
She didn’t take the chair I placed for her. She stood there stiff. I had the feeling she couldn’t see, but she obviously could. After the greetings, and when I was back in my chair again, I noticed that April’s fingers were unsteady as she fumbled for a cigarette. May was looking sweet again, but she was tense. So was June’s voice:
“My dear Daisy, this was unnecessary! We were completely candid with you! We told you we were going to consult Mr. Nero Wolfe. You gave us till Monday. There was no reason whatever why you should have any suspicion — Sara, you little devil, what on earth are you doing? Put that away!”
“In a second, Mom.” Sara’s tone was urgent. “Everybody sit tight.”
A dazzling flash blinded us. There were ejaculations, the loudest and least gentle from Prescott. I, having bounded up from my chair, stood feeling foolish.
Sara said composedly, “I wanted one of Nero Wolfe sitting at his desk. Excuse it please. Hand me that dingus, Andy.”
“Go chase a snail. You darned little fool.”
“Sara! Sit down!”
“Okay, Mom. That’s all.”
We stopped blinking. I was back in my chair. Wolfe inquired dryly, “Is your daughter a professional photographer, Mrs. Dunn?”
“No. She’s a professional fiend. It’s this damnable saga of the illustrious Hawthorne girls. She wants to carry it on. She thinks she can—”
“That isn’t so! I only wanted a shot—”
“Please!” Wolfe scowled across. Sara grinned at him. He slanted his gaze upward at the veil. “Won’t you sit down, Mrs. Hawthorne?”
“I think not, thank you.” Her voice gave me the creeps and made me want to pull the veil off myself. It was pitched high, with a strain in it that gave me the impression it wasn’t coming from a mouth. She turned the veil on June:
“So you think my coming was unnecessary? That’s very funny. Didn’t you leave Andrew and Sara and April’s secretary to guard me so I wouldn’t interfere with you?”
“No,” June declared, “we didn’t. For God’s sake, Daisy, be reasonable. We only wanted—”
“I have no desire to be reasonable. I’m not an imbecile, June. It was my face Noel ruined, not my mind.” She whirled, suddenly, and unexpectedly, to the younger sister. “By the way, April, speaking of faces, your secretary is much better-looking than you are. Of course she’s only half your age. How brave of you.”
April kept her eyes down and said nothing.
“You can never bear to look at me, can you?” From behind the veil came a terrible little laugh, and then it turned again to June. “I didn’t come here to interfere. I came because I’m suspicious and I have cause to be. You are Hawthornes — the notorious Hawthornes. Your brother was a Hawthorne. He assured me many times that I would be generously cared for. His word, generous. I knew he had that woman, he told me so — he was candid too, like you. He gave me, monthly, more money than I needed, more than I could use, to deceive me, to stop my suspicions. And now even my house is not mine!”
“My Lord, don’t I know it?” June raised a hand and let it fall. “My dear Daisy, don’t I know it? Can’t you believe that our one desire, our one purpose—”
“No, I can’t. I don’t believe a word a Hawthorne says.” The breath of the bitter words was fluttering the veil, but the silk harness held it in place. “Nor you, Glen Prescott. I don’t trust you. Not one of you. I didn’t even believe you were coming to see this Nero Wolfe, but I find you did.”
She turned to confront Wolfe. “I know about you. I know a man you did something for — I used to know him. I telephoned him today to ask about you. He said you may be relied upon completely in trust, but that as an opponent you are ruthless and dangerous. He said if I asked you point-blank whether you are on my side or not, you wouldn’t lie. I came here to ask you.”
“Sit down, Mrs. Hawthorne.”
“No. I only came to ask you that.”
“Then I’ll answer it.” Wolfe was brusque. “I’m not on anybody’s side. Not yet. I have a violent distaste for quarrels over a dead man’s property. However, I am at the moment badly in need of money. I need a job. If I accept this one, I undertake to persuade Miss Naomi Karn to relinquish a large share, as large a share as possible, of Mr. Noel Hawthorne’s legacy to her, in your favor. That’s what these people have asked me to do. Do you want that done?”
“Yes. But as my right, not as largess from her. I would prefer to compel—”
“You would prefer to fight for it. But there’s the possibility you would lose, and besides, if persuasion doesn’t get satisfactory results, you can still fight. You came to see me because you don’t trust these people. Is that right?”
“Yes. My husband was their brother. Glenn Prescott was his lawyer and friend. They have tried to cheat and defraud me.”
“And you suspect that they came to get my assistance in further chicanery?”
“Yes.”
“Well, let’s dispose of that. I wish you’d sit down.” Wolfe turned to me. “Archie, take this down and type it. One carbon. ‘I hereby affirm that in any negotiations I may undertake regarding the will of Noel Hawthorne, deceased, I shall consider Mrs. Noel Hawthorne as one of my clients and shall in good faith safeguard her interests, and shall notify her in advance of any change in my commitments, semicolon, it being understood that a bill for her share of my fee shall be paid by her. A line for a witness.’”
I swiveled and got the machine up and rattled it off, and handed the original to Wolfe. He read it and signed it and handed it back, and I signed as witness. Then I folded it and put it in an envelope and offered it to Daisy Hawthorne. The hand that took it was dead-white, with veins showing on the back, and long thin fingers.
Wolfe asked her politely, “Will that do, madam?”
She didn’t answer. She took the sheet from the envelope, unfolded it, and read it with her head turned to one side, using, apparently, the left eye only from behind the veil. Then she stuffed it in her bag, turned, and started for the door. I got up and went to open it, but young Dunn was ahead of me, and anyway we were both premature. She altered her course abruptly, and was confronting April Hawthorne, close enough to touch her; but when she lifted her hand it was to take hold of the bottom edge of the veil.
“Look, April!” she demanded. “I wouldn’t care to have the others see — but just for you — as a favor, you know, in memory of Leo—”
“Don’t!” April screamed. “Don’t let her!”
There was commotion. Most of them were out of their chairs. The one who got there first was Celia Fleet, living up to her name. I didn’t know a blonde’s eyes could blaze the way hers did as she faced the veil. “You do that again,” she said furiously, “and I’ll pull that thing off of you! I swear I will! Try it!”
A masculine voice horned in. “Get away from here! Get out!” It was Mr. Stauffer, the chap who kept his face arranged. It was now fierce with indignation, as he shouldered Celia Fleet aside to stand protectively in front of April, who had shrunk back in her seat and covered her face with her hands. The same terrible little laugh came from behind the veil, then Noel Hawthorne’s widow turned and started again for the door. But again, halfway there, she halted to speak, this time to Mrs. Dunn.
“Don’t send the brats to guard me, June. I’ll keep my word. I’ll give you till Monday.”
Then she went. Fritz was there in the hall, looking concerned on account of the scream he had heard, and I was glad to leave it to him to escort her out the front door. That damn veil got on my nerves. As I rejoined the scene, April’s shoulders were having spasms and Mr. Stauffer was patting one of them and Celia Fleet the other. May and June were quietly observing the operation. Prescott was mopping his face with his handkerchief. I asked if I should get some brandy or something.
“No, thank you.” May smiled at me. “My sister is always teetering on the edge of things, more or less. I doubt if she could be a good actress if she weren’t. It seems that artists have to. It used to be attributed to the flames of genius, but now they say it’s glands.”
April’s face, pale with revulsion, came into view and she blurted, “Stop it!”
“Yes,” June put in, “I don’t think that’s necessary, May.” She looked at Wolfe. “I imagine you’ll agree I was correct when I said our sister-in-law is implacable.”
Wolfe nodded. “I do. Badly as I need money, I wouldn’t attempt to persuade her to relinquish anything. Speaking of money, I have an exaggerated opinion of the value of my services.”
“I know you have. Your bill, if it is short of outrageous, will be paid.”
“Good — Archie, your notebook — Now. You want a signed agreement with Miss Karn. Half of the residuary estate, more if possible, to Mrs. Hawthorne. In addition to the half million she gets?”
“I don’t know — whatever you can.”
“And nine hundred thousand to the Varney College Science Fund?”
“Yes,” May said positively.
“If you can get it, of course,” said June. “Don’t let my sister give you the idea that she’ll smash the settlement if that isn’t in it. She’s bluffing.”
May said quietly, “You’ve been wrong about me before, June.”
“Maybe I have, but not now. Let’s jump that fence when we get to it, Mr. Wolfe.”
“Very well. If we can get it, we will. What about you and your sister? What do you want for yourselves?”
“Nothing. We have our fruit.”
“Indeed.” Wolfe looked at May. “Is that correct, Miss Hawthorne?”
“Certainly. I want nothing for myself.”
Wolfe looked at the youngest. “And you?”
“What?” asked April vaguely.
“I am asking, do you demand a share of your brother’s estate?”
“Good heavens, no.”
“Not that we couldn’t use it,” said June. “April lives at least a year ahead of her income and is in debt to her ears. May washes her own stockings. She never has anything because she gives half her salary to Varney girls who would have to leave college if she didn’t. As for me, I have trouble paying the grocery bills. My husband had a good income from his private practice, but the salary of a secretary of state is pretty skimpy.”
“Then I think we should be able to persuade Miss Karn—”
“No. Don’t try it. If my brother had left us something we could certainly have used it — and I suppose we’re all surprised that he didn’t. But no — no haggling for it. From him direct, yes, but not by way of that woman.”
“If I get it, will you take it?”
“Don’t try. Don’t tempt us. You know how it is. You’re in need of money yourself.”
“We’ll see. What about your children?”
“They get a hundred thousand apiece.”
“Is that satisfactory?”
“Of course. My Lord, they’re rich.”
“Is anything else wanted from Miss Karn for anyone at all?”
“No.”
Wolfe looked at the lawyer. “What about it, Mr. Prescott? Have you any comments?”
Prescott shook his head. “None. I’m happy to stay as well out of it as I can. I drew the will.”
“So you did.” Wolfe frowned at him, then transferred the frown to June. “So much for that. We’ll get all we can. Now what about Miss Karn?”
“What about her?”
“Who is she, what is she, where is she?”
“I don’t know much about her.” June turned to the lawyer. “You tell him, Glenn.”
“Well...” Prescott rubbed his nose. “She’s a young woman, a year or two short of thirty I should say—”
“Wait a minute!” The interruption came from Sara Dunn, the professional fiend, as she glided up to Wolfe’s desk with something in her hand. “Here, Mr. Wolfe, look at this. I brought it along because I thought it might be needed. That’s her laughing, and the man with her is Uncle Noel. You can borrow it if you want to, but I’ll want it back.”
“Where in the name of heaven,” Mrs. Dunn demanded, “did you get that thing?”
“Oh, I took it one day last spring when I happened to see Uncle in front of Hartlespoon’s, and I knew who it must be with him. They didn’t see me snap it. It’s a good shot, so I had it enlarged.”
“You — you knew—” June was sputtering. “How did you know about that woman?”
“Don’t be a goof, Mom,” said Sara sympathetically. “I wasn’t born deaf, and I’m past twenty-one. You were just my age when you wrote Affairs of a Titmouse. ”
“Thank you very much, Miss Dunn.” Wolfe put the picture under a paperweight on top of Daisy Hawthorne’s card. “I’ll remember to return it.” He turned to the lawyer. “About Miss Karn? You know her, do you?”
“Not very well,” said Prescott. “That is — I’ve known her, in a way, for about six years. She was a stenographer in our office — my firm.”
“Indeed. Your personal stenographer?”
“Oh, no. We have thirty or more of them — it’s a large office. She was just one of them for a couple of years, and then she became the secretary of the junior partner, Mr. Davis. It was in Mr. Davis’s office that Mr. Hawthorne first met her. Not long after that—” Prescott stopped, and looked uncomfortable. “But that’s of no present significance. I wished to explain how I happened to know her. She left our employ about three years ago — uh — apparently at the suggestion of Mr. Hawthorne—”
“Apparently?”
“Well—” Prescott shrugged. “Admittedly, then. Since he himself made no attempt to be secretive about it, there is no call for caution from me.”
“The Hawthornes,” said May sweetly, “are much too egotistic to be sneaks. ‘How we apples swim.’”
“Obviously he wasn’t sneaking,” Wolfe agreed, glancing at the picture under the paperweight, “when he paraded with her on Fifth Avenue.”
“I think I should warn you,” Prescott said, “that your task will be a difficult one.”
“I expect it to be. To persuade anybody to turn loose of four million dollars.”
“I know, but I mean exceptionally difficult.” Prescott shook his head doubtfully. “God knows I wish you luck, but from what I know of Miss Karn... it’ll be a job. Ask Stauffer, he’ll tell you what he thinks of it. That’s why we asked him to come down here with us.”
“Stauffer?”
A voice came from the left: “I’m Osric Stauffer.”
Wolfe looked at the good-looking face that was living up to something. “Oh. Are you...” He trailed it off.
The face looked faintly annoyed. “Osric Stauffer of Daniel Cullen and Company. The foreign department was under the direction of Mr. Hawthorne and I was next to him. Also I was fairly intimate with him.”
So it was Daniel Cullen and Company he was living up to. Judging from the way he had been hovering in the neighborhood of April Hawthorne, I had guessed wrong entirely; I had thought he was dignifying a passion.
Wolfe inquired, “You know Miss Karn, do you?”
“I have met her, yes.” Stauffer’s voice was clipped and precise. “What Mr. Prescott was referring to, I went to see her this morning about this will business. I was requested to go by him and Mrs. Dunn — and in a way, unofficially, as a representative of my firm. A will contest — this sort of thing — would be highly undesirable in the case of a Cullen partner.”
“So you saw Miss Karn this morning?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I made no headway at all. Naturally, in my position, I have been entrusted with some difficult and delicate negotiations, and I’ve dealt with some tough customers, but I’ve never struck anything tougher than Miss Karn. Her position was that it would be improper, and even indecent, to interfere with the wishes of a dead man as he had himself expressed them, with regard to the disposal of his own property. Therefore she couldn’t even discuss it, and she wouldn’t. I told her she would have a contest to fight and might lose it all. She said she had a great respect for justice and would cheerfully accept any decision a court might make, provided there was no higher court to appeal to.”
“Did you offer terms?”
“No, not specific terms. I didn’t get that far. She was—” Stauffer seemed momentarily embarrassed how to put it. “She wasn’t inclined to listen to anything about the will, the purpose of my call. She attempted to presume on our comparatively slight acquaintance.”
“Do you mean she tried to make love to you?”
“Oh, no.” Stauffer blushed, glanced involuntarily at April Hawthorne, and blushed more. “No, not that, not at all. I mean merely that she acted as if my visit were — just a friendly visit. She is an extremely clever woman.”
“And you think she wasn’t scared by the threat of a contest?”
“I’m positive she wasn’t. I never saw anyone less scared.”
Wolfe grunted. He turned to June with a frown. “What’s the point,” he demanded, “of asking me to bring your game down with ammunition that’s already been fired?”
“That is the point,” June asserted. “That’s why we came to you. If a simple threat would do it, it would have been simple. I know it’s a hard job. That’s why we’ll gladly pay the fee you’ll charge, if you succeed.”
“It is also,” May put in, “why something my sister said to you at the beginning was untrue. She said we didn’t need a detective, but we do. You will have to find a way to bring pressure on Miss Karn much more compelling than threat of a court contest of the will.”
“I see.” Wolfe grimaced. “No wonder I don’t like fights about dead men’s property. They’re always ugly fights.”
“This one isn’t,” June declared. “It will be if Daisy and that woman get it into a court, but our part of it isn’t. What’s ugly about our trying to avoid a stinking scandal by persuading that woman that three or four million dollars of our brother’s fortune is all she’s entitled to? If her avarice and stubbornness make the persuasion difficult and expensive...”
“And even if it were ugly,” said May quietly, “it would still have to be done. I think, Mr. Wolfe, we’ve told you everything you need to know. Will you do it?”
Wolfe looked at the clock on the wall. I felt sorry for him. He didn’t like the job, but he had to take it. Moreover, he permitted nothing whatever to interfere with his custom of spending four hours a day in the plant rooms on the roof — from nine to eleven in the morning and from four to six in the afternoon — and the clock said five minutes to four. He looked at me, gave me a scowl for my grin, and glanced up at the clock again.
He rose from his chair as abruptly as his bulk would permit.
“I’ll do it,” he announced gruffly. “And now, if you don’t mind, I have an appointment for four o’clock—”
“I know!” Sara Dunn exclaimed. “You’re going up to the orchids. I’d love to see them—”
“Some other time, Miss Dunn. I’m in no mood for it. Shall I report to you, Mrs. Dunn? Or Mr. Prescott?”
“Either. Or both.” June was out of her chair.
“Both, then. Get names and addresses, Archie.”
I did so. Prescott’s office and home, the Hawthorne house on 67th Street, where they all were temporarily, and, not least important, Naomi Karn’s apartment on Park Avenue. They straggled into the hall, and I left the front to Fritz. Stauffer, I noticed, was solicitous at April Hawthorne’s elbow. May was the last one out of the office, having lingered for a word with Wolfe which I didn’t catch. I heard the front door close, and Fritz glanced in on his way back to the kitchen.
“Pfui!” said Wolfe.
“And wowie,” I agreed. “But at that they’re not vultures. I’m going to marry April. Then after a bit I’ll divorce her and marry her blond secretary—”
“That will do. Confound it, anyway. Well, you have two hours—”
“Sure.” I assumed a false cheerfulness. “Let me say it for you. I am to have Miss Karn here at six o’clock. Or a few minutes before, so as not to keep you waiting.”
He nodded. “Say ten minutes to six.”
It was too damned hot to throw something at him. I merely made a disrespectful noise, beat it out to the sidewalk where the roadster was parked, climbed in, and was on my way.