Free And Be a Villain by Rex Stout Page B

hand I might not have been. Obviously my treatment of that problem had an effect on my calculations of the probability of my being arrested for murder. But for a free decision I would have had to know, first, that the letter had been destroyed, and, second, that the memories of Miss Fraser’s staff were vague about its contents. I learned both of those facts too late.”
    Wolfe stirred in his chair. “What else on the road to affirmative certainty?”
    “Let’s see.” Savarese considered. “I think that’s all, unless we go into observation of distributions, and that should be left for a secondary formula. For instance, my character, a study of which, a posteriori , would show it to be probable that I would commit murder for the sake of a sound but revolutionary formula. One detail of that would be my personal finances. My salary as an assistant professor is barely enough to live on endurably, but I paid ten dollars a week for that Track Almanac .”
    “Do you gamble? Do you bet on horse races?”
    “No. I never have. I know too much—or rather, I know too little. More than ninety-nine per cent of the bets placed on horse races are outbursts of emotion, not exercises of reason. I restrict my emotions to the activities for which they are qualified.” Savarese waved a hand. “That starts us in the other direction, toward a negative certainty, with its conclusion that I did not kill Orchard, and we might as well go on with it. Items:
    “I could not have managed that Orchard got the poison. I was seated diagonally across from him, and I did not help pass the bottles. It cannot be shown that I have ever purchased, stolen, borrowed, or possessed any cyanide. It cannot be established that I would, did, or shall profit in any way from Orchard’s death. When I arrived at the broadcasting studio, at twenty minutes to eleven, everyone else was already there and I would certainly have been observed if I had gone to the refrigerator and opened its door. There is no evidence that my association with Orchard was other than as I have described it, with no element of animus or of any subjective attitude.”
    Savarese beamed. “How far have we gone? One-in-one-thousand?”
    “I’m not with you,” Wolfe said with no element of animus. “I’m not on that road at all, nor on any road. I’m wandering around poking at things. Have you ever been in Michigan?”
    For the hour that was left before orchid time Wolfe fired questions at him, and Savarese answered him briefly and to the point. Evidently the professor really did want to compare Wolfe’s technique with that of the police, for, as he gave close attention to each question as it was asked, he had more the air of a judge or referee sizing something up than of a murder suspect, guilty or innocent, going through an ordeal. The objective attitude.
    He maintained it right up to four o’clock, when the session ended, and I escorted the objective attitude to the front door, and Wolfe went to his elevator.
    A little after five Saul Panzer arrived. Coming only up to the middle of my ear, and of slight build, Saul doesn’t even begin to fill the red leather chair, but he likes to sit in it, and did so. He is pretty objective too, and I have rarely seen him either elated or upset about anything that had happened to him, or that he had caused to happen to someone else, but that day he was really riled.
    “It was bad judgment,” he told me, frowning and glum. “Rotten judgment. I’m ashamed to face Mr. Wolfe. I had a good story ready, one that I fully expected to work, and all I needed was ten minutes with the mother to put it over. But I misjudged her. I had discussed her with a couple of the bellhops, and had talked with her on the phone, and had a good chance to size her up in the hotel lobby and when she came outside, and I utterly misjudged her. I can’t tell you anything about her brains or character, I didn’t get that far, but she certainly knows how to keep the dogs