sewellendicottsaidhewasworkinglateandicoulddroparoundintheeveningaboutseven-thirty.

hehadacornerofficewithabluecarpet,aredmahoganydeskwithcarvedcorners,veryoldandobviouslyveryvaluable,theusualglass-frontbookshelvesofmustard-yellowlegalbooks,theusualcartoonsbyspyoffamousenglishjudges,andalargeportraitofjusticeoliverwendellholmesonthesouthwall,alone.endicott’schairwasquiltedinblackleather.nearhimwasanopenrolltopdeskjammedwithpapers.itwasanofficenodecoratorhadhadachancetopansyup.

hewasinhisshirtsleevesandhelookedtired,buthehadthatkindofface.hewassmokingoneofhistastelesscigarettes.ashesfromithadfallenonhisloosenedtie.hislimpblackhairwasallovertheplace.

hestaredatmesilentlyafterisatdown.thenhesaid:“you’reastubbornsonofabitch,ifeverimetone.don’ttellmeyou’restilldiggingintothatmess.”

“somethingworriesmealittle.woulditbeallrightnowifiassumedyouwererepresentingmr.harlanpotterwhenyoucametoseemeinthebirdcage?”

henodded.itouchedthesideofmyfacegentlywithmyfingertips.itwasallhealedupandtheswellingwasgone,butoneoftheblowsmusthavedamagedanerve.partofthecheekwasstillnumb.icouldn’tletitalone.itwouldgetallrightintime.

“andthatwhenyouwenttootatoclányouweretemporarilydeputizedasamemberofthe’sstaff?”

“yes,butdon’trubitin,marlowe.itwasavaluableconnection.perhapsigaveittoomuchweight.”

“stillis,ihope.”

heshookhishead.“no.that’sfinished.mr.potterdoeshislegalbusinessthroughsanfrancisco,newyork,andwashingtonfirms.”

“iguesshehatesmyguts—ifhethinksaboutit.”

endicottsmiled.“curiouslyenough,heputalltheblameonhissonin-law,dr.loring.amanlikeharlanpotterhastoblamesomebody.hecouldn’tpossiblybewronghimself.hefeltthatifloringhadn’tbeenfeedingthewomandangerousdrugs,noneofitwouldhavehappened.”

“he’swrong.yousawterrylennox’sbodyinotatoclán,didn’tyou?”

“ididindeed.inthebackofacabinetmaker’sshop.theyhavenopropermortuarythere.hewasmakingthecoffintoo.thebodywasice-cold.isawthewoundinthetemple.there’snoquestionofidentity,ifyouhadanyideasalongthoselines.”

“no,mr.endicott,ididn’t,becauseinhiscaseitcouldhardlybepossible.hewasdisguisedalittlethough,wasn’the?”

“faceandhandsdarkened,hairdyedblack.butthescarswerestillobvious.andthefingerprints,ofcourse,wereeasilycheckedfromthingshehadhandledathome.”

“whatkindofpoliceforcedotheyhavedownthere?”

“primitive.thejefecouldjustaboutreadandwrite.butheknewaboutfingerprints.itwashotweather,youknow.quitehot.”hefrownedandtookhiscigaretteoutofhismouthanddroppeditnegligentlyintoanenormousblackbasaltsortofreceptacle.“theyhadtogeticefromthehotel,”headded.“plentyofice.”helookedatmeagain.“noembalmingthere.thingshavetomovefast.”

“youspeakspanish,mr.endicott?”

“onlyafewwords.thehotelmanagerinterpreted.”hesmiled.“awell-dressedsmoothie,thatfellow.lookedtough,buthewasverypoliteandhelpful.itwasalloverinnotime.”

“ihadaletterfromterry.iguessmr.potterwouldknowaboutit.itoldhisdaughter,mrs.loring.ishowedittoher.therewasaportraitofmadisoninit.”

“awhat?”

“five-thousand-dollarbill.”

heraisedhiseyebrows.“really.well,hecouldcertainlyaffordit.hiswifegavehimacoolquarterofamillionthesecondtimetheyweremarried.i’veanideahemeanttogotomexicotoliveanyhow—quiteapartfromwhathappened.idon’tknowwhathappenedtothemoney.iwasn’tinonthat.”

“here’stheletter,mr.endicott,ifyoucaretoreadit.”

itookitoutandgaveittohim.hereaditcarefully,thewaylawyersreadeverything.heputitdownonthedeskandleanedbackandstaredatnothing.

“alittleliterary,isn’tit?”hesaidquietly.“iwonderwhyhedidit.”

“killedhimself,confessed,orwrotemetheletter?”

“confessedandkilledhimself,ofcourse,”endicottsaidsharply.“theletterisunderstandable.atleastyougotareasonablerecompenseforwhatyoudidforhim—andsince.