Free Rex Stout - Nero Wolfe 02 by The League of Frightened Men Page A

Paul! After what we—after what I—you dirty murdering rat!”
    Others, breaking their tension, found their tongues. Wolfe stopped them. He said sharply, “Gentlemen! Mr. Chapin is my guest!” He looked at Chapin, leaning on his stick. “You should sit down. Take a chair.—Archie.”
    “No, thanks. I’ll be going in a moment.” Chapin sent a smile around; it would have been merely a pleasant smile but for his light-colored eyes where there was no smile at all. “I’ve been standing on one foot for twenty-five years. Of course all of you know that; I don’t need to tell you. I’m sorry if I’ve annoyed you by coming here; really, I wouldn’t disconcert you fellows for anything. You’ve all been too kind to me, you know very well you have. If I may get a little literary and sentimental about it—you have lightened life’s burden for me. I’ll never forget it, I’ve told you that a thousand times. Of course, now that I seem to have found my métier, now that I am standing on my own feet—that is, my own foot—” he smiled around again—“I shall be able to find my way the rest of the journey without you. But I shall always be grateful.” He turned to Wolfe. “That’s how it is, you see. But I didn’t come here to say that, I came to see you. I was thinking that possibly you are a reasonable and intelligent man. Are you?”
    Wolfe was looking at him. I was saying to myself, look out, Paul Chapin, look out for those half-closed eyes, and if you take my advice you’ll shut up and beat it quick. Wolfe said:
    “I reach that pinnacle occasionally, Mr. Chapin.”
    “I’ll try to believe you. There are few who do. I just wanted to say this to you: my friends have wasted a lot of time and money pursuing a mirage whichsomeone has cleverly projected for them. I tell you straight, Mr. Wolfe, it’s been a shock to me. That they should suspect
me
, knowing as they do how grateful I am for all their kindness! Really, incredible. I wanted to put this before you and save you from the loss of your time and money too. You would not be so fatuous as to chase a mirage?”
    “I assure you, sir, I am far too immobile to chase anything whatever. But perhaps—since you are by your own admission definitely out of it—perhaps you have a theory regarding the incidents that have disturbed your friends? It might help us.”
    “I’m afraid not.” Chapin shook his head regretfully. “Of course, it appears more than likely that it’s a practical joke, but I have no idea—”
    “Murder isn’t a joke, Mr. Chapin. Death is not a joke.”
    “Oh, no? Really, no? Are you so sure? Take a good case. Take me, Paul Chapin. Would you dare to assert that my death would not be a joke?”
    “Why, would it?”
    “Of course. A howling anticlimax. Death’s pretensions to horror, considering what in my case has preceded it, would be indescribably ludicrous. That is why I have so greatly appreciated my friends, their thoughtfulness, their solicitude—”
    A cry from behind interrupted him; a cry, deeply anguished, in the voice of Dr. Burton: “Paul! Paul, for God’s sake!”
    Chapin wheeled about on his good leg. “Yes?” Without raising his voice a particle he got into it a concentrated scorn that would have withered the love of God. “Yes, Lorry?”
    Burton looked at him, said nothing, shook his head,and turned his eyes away. Chapin turned back to Wolfe. Wolfe said:
    “So you adhere to the joke theory.”
    “Not adhere precisely. It seems likely. So far as I am concerned, Mr. Wolfe, the only point is this: I suffer from the delusion of my friends that I am a source of peril to them. Actually, they are afraid of me. Of
me
! I suffer considerably, I really do. The fact is that it would be difficult to conceive of a more harmless creature than I am. I am myself afraid! Constitutionally afraid of all sorts of things. For instance, on account of my pathetic physical inadequacy, I go in constant fear of this or that sort of