Rex Stout - 1913 - Her Forbidden Knight by Rex Stout

Author:Rex Stout [Stout, Rex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4532-5709-8
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road
Published: 2012-05-01T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER X.

The End of the Rope

SHERMAN HAD LEFT THE ERRING KNIGHTS IN THE billiard room of the Lamartine in a state of unrestrained delight.

At last they were to triumph over Knowlton. And it would be, so Jennings declared, a bloodless and well-deserved victory. Dougherty alone appeared to wear an expression of dissatisfaction, and he was urged to explain it.

“I don’t like it,” declared the ex-prizefighter. “That’s no way to fight a guy. Oh, I’ll stick, all right, and I’ll hand it to him straight, but I don’t like it.”

“Nobody expects to see you satisfied,” Booth observed.

Dougherty, disregarding him, continued:

“And another thing. Why does Sherman want us to hold off till tomorrow? It looks funny. You can’t tell what that guy will do.”

Dumain put in:

“He said something about zee defective.”

“Well, and what about that? He said he wanted time to call off his detective. What sense is there in that? I don’t see how it could make any difference when we tell him. It looks funny.”

“But what other motive could Sherman have?” Booth demanded.

Dougherty looked at him.

“You know a lot,” he observed contemptuously. “You know how wrong Sherman was to have us peach. Well, when he found out we wouldn’t, what if he decided to do it himself? And then, to give him time for action, he gets us to promise not to put Knowlton next till tomorrow.

“I don’t say that’s his game, but it looks suspicious. That guff about his detective is silly. He probably knew it himself, but he didn’t have time to think up a better reason.”

“Well,” put in Driscoll, “it’s easy enough to fix it. All you have to do is to see Knowlton today.”

“And the sooner the better,” said Jennings. “Beat Mr. Sherman at his own game, if that is his game.”

“I agree,” said little Dumain pompously.

Dougherty slid down from the billiard table on which he was sitting and glanced at his watch, saying:

“Ten minutes to twelve. I wonder if he’d be at home now.”

“Probably he’s in bed,” said Driscoll.

Dougherty appeared to consider.

“I’ll go right after lunch,” he said finally. “That’s settled.”

They wandered into the lobby, which by this time was pretty well filled. Dougherty and Jennings stopped in front of a racing bulletin and sighed for the good old days at Sheepshead Bay and Brighton; Driscoll strolled over to the leather lounge in the corner with a morning paper.

Dumain and Booth, joined a group at the cigar stand who were politely but firmly endeavoring to make the Venus admit that she had attempted to improve on nature in the matter of hair. She took it all in fun and good humor and kept them off with a flow of witty evasions. And, incidentally, they bought many cigars.

Driscoll, seated in the corner with his paper, was reading a certain article for the sixth time with an angry frown. The night before he had substituted for the leading man, who had suddenly been taken ill. And this article was not exactly complimentary to the substitute.

He told himself,

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