Pete, poising his brush, shook his head.

“Who?” Wolfe demanded.

“Maybe Pericles.”

“Nonsense. Pericles had been dead twenty-six years. Confound it, I read parts of that speech to you last year. His name begins with L.”

“Lycurgus.”

“No! The Athenian Lycurgus hadn’t been born!”

Pete looked up. “Today you must excuse me.” He tapped his head with the edge of the brush. “Empty today. Why I came early, something happened. I go in a man’s room, Mr. Ashby, a good customer, two bits every day. Room empty, nobody there. Window wide open, cold wind coming in. Tenth floor. I go and look out window, big crowd down below and cops. I go out to hall and take elevator down, I push through crowd, and there is my good customer, Mr. Ashby, there on the sidewalk, all smashed up terrible. I push back out of crowd, I look up, I see heads sticking out of windows, I think it’s no good going up to customers now, they will be looking out of windows, so I come here, that’s why I come early, so today you must excuse me, Mr. Wolfe.” He lowered his head and started the brush going.

Wolfe grunted. “I advise you to return to that building without delay. Does anyone know you were in his room?”

“Sure. Miss Cox.”

“She saw you enter?”

“Sure.”

“How long were you in his room?”

“Maybe one minute.”

“Did Miss Cox see you leave?”

“No, I go out another door to the hall.”

“Did you push him out the window?”