I said, “Oh, yes. Mr. Frisbie. Since you say you must talk with Mr. Wolfe himself, can I get you a book or something? The morning paper? He will be down at eleven.” Frisbie’s fingertips parted. He demanded, “He’s here, isn’t her “Certainly. He’s never anywhere else.” “Then—I won’t wait an hour. I was warned to expect this. I won’t tolerate it.” I shrugged. “Okay. I’ll make it as easy as I can for you. Do you want to look at the morning paper while you’re not tolerating it?” He stood up. “Look here. This is insufferable. Time and time again this man Wolfe has had the effrontery to obstruct the operations of our office. Mr.
Skinner sent me here—” “I’ll bet he did. He wouldn’t come again himself, after his last experience—” “He sent me, and I certainly don’t intend to sit here until eleven o’clock.
Owing to an excess of leniency with which Wolfe has too often been treated by certain officials, he apparently regards himself as above the law. No one can flout the processes of justice—no one!” The high color had got higher. “Boyden McNair was murdered three days ago right in this office, and there is every reason to believe that Wolfe knows more about it than he has told. He should have been brought to see the District Attorney at once—but no, he has not even been properly questioned! Now another man has been killed, and again there is good reason to believe that Wolfe has withheld information which might have prevented it. I have made a great concession to him by coming here at all, and I want to see hfrn at once. At once!” I nodded. “Sure, I know you want to see him, but keep your shirt on. Let’s make it a hypothetical question. If I say you’ll have to wait until eleven o’clock, then what?” He glared. “I won’t wait. I’ll go to my office and I’ll have him served. And I’ll see that his license is revoked! He thinks his friend Morley can save him, but he can’t get away with this kind of crooked underhanded—” I smacked him one. I probably wouldn’t have, except for the bad humor I was in anyway. It was by no means a wallop, merely a pat with the palm at the side of his puss, but it tilted him a little. He went back a step and began to tremble, and stood there with his arms at his sides and his fists doubled up.
I said, “They’re no good hanging there at your knees. Put ’em up and I’ll slap you again.” He was too mad to pronounce properly. He sputtered, “You’ll re-regret this.
You’ll—” I said, “Shut up and get out of here before you make me mad. You talk of revoking licenses! I know what’s eating you, you’ve got delusions of grandeur, and you’ve been trying to hog a grandstand play ever since they gave you a desk and a chair down there. I know all about you. I know why Skinner sent you, he wanted to give you a chance to make a monkey of yourself, and you didn’t even have gump enough to know it. The next time you shoot off your mouth about Nero Wolfe being crooked and underhanded I won’t slap you in private, I’ll do it with an audience. Git!” In a way I suppose it was all right, and of course it was the only thing to do under the circumstances, but there was no deep satisfaction in it. He turned and walked out, and after I had heard the front door close behind him I went and sat down at my desk and yawned and scratched my head and kicked over the wastebasket. It had been a fleeting pleasure to smack him and read him out, but now that it was over there was an inclination inside of me to feel righteous, and that made me glum and in a worse temper than before. I hate to feel righteous, because it makes me uncomfortable and I want to kick something.
I picked up the wastebasket and returned the litter to it piece by piece. I took out the plant records and opened them and put them back again, went to the front room and looked out of the window onto 35th Street and came back, answered a phone call from Ferguson’s Market which I relayed to Fritz, and finally got myself propped on my coccyx again with the book on toxicology. I was still fighting with that when Wolfe came down from the plant rooms at eleven o’clock.
He progressed to his desk and sat down, and went through his usual motions with the pen, the mail, the vase of orchids, the button to subpoena beer. Fritz came with the tray, and Wolfe opened and poured and drank and wiped his lips. Then he leaned back and sighed. He was relaxing after his strenuous activities among the flower pots.
I said, “Frisbie got obnoxious and I touched him on the cheek with my hand. He is going to revoke your license and serve you with different kinds of papers and maybe throw you into a vat of lye.” “Indeed.” Wolfe opened his eyes at me. “Was he going to revoke the license before you hit him or afterward?” “Before. Afterward he didn’t talk much.” Wolfe shuddered. “I trust your discretion, Archie, but sometimes I feel that I am trusting the discretion of an avalanche. Was there no recourse but to batter him?” “I didn’t batter him. I didn’t even tap him. It was just a gesture of annoyance.
I’m in an ugly mood.” “I know you are. I don’t blame you. This case has been tedious and disagreeable from the beginning. Something seems to have happened to Saul. We have a job ahead of us. It will end, I think, as disagreeably as it began, but we shall do it in style if we can, and with finality—ah! There, I hope, is Saul now.” The doorbell had rung. But again, as on the evening before, it wasn’t Saul. This time it was Inspector Cramer.
Fritz ushered him in and he lumbered across. He looked as if he was about due for dry dock, with puffs under his eyes, his greying hair straggly, and his shoulders not as erect and military as an inspector’s ought to be. Wolfe greeted him: “Good morning, sir. Sit down. Will you have some beer?” He took the dunce’s chair, indulged in a deep breath, took a cigar from his pocket, scowled at it and put it back again. He took another breath and told both of us: “When I get into such shape that I don’t want a cigar I’m in a hell of a fix.” He looked at me. “What did you do to Frisbie, anyway?” “Not a thing. Nothing that I remember.” “Well, he does. I think you’re done for. I think he’s going to plaster a charge of treason on you.” I grinned. “That hadn’t occurred to me. I guess that’s what it was, treason.
What do they do, hang me?” Cramer shrugged. “I don’t know and I don’t care. What happens to you is the least of my worries. God, I wish I felt like lighting a cigar.” He took one from his pocket again, looked it over, and this time kept it in his hand. He passed me up. “Excuse me, Wolfe, I guess I didn’t mention I don’t want any beer. I suppose you think I came here to start a fracas.” Wolfe murmured, “Well, didn’t you?” “I did not. I came to have a reasonable talk. Can I ask you a couple of straight questions and get a couple of straight replies?” “You can try. Give me a sample.” “Okay. If we searched this place would we find McNair’s red box?” “No.” “Have you ever seen it or do you know where it is.
“No. To both.” “Did McNair tell you anything here Wednesday before he died that gave you any line on motive for these murders?” “You have heard every word Mr. McNair said in this office; Archie read it to you from his notes.” “Yeah. I know. Have you received information as to motive from any other source?” “Now, really.” Wolfe wiggled a finger. “That question is preposterous. Certainly I have. Haven’t I been on die case four days?” “Who from?” “Well, for one, from you.” Cramer stared. He stuck his cigar in his mouth and put his teeth into it without realizing he was doing it. He threw up his hands and dropped them.
“The trouble with you, Wolfe,” he declared, “is that you can’t forget for one little moment how terribly smart you are. Hell, I know it. Do you think I ever waste my time making calls like this on Del Pritchard or Sandy Mollew? When did I tell you what?” Wolfe shook his head. “No, Mr. Cramer. Now—as the children say—now you’re getting warm. And I’m not quite ready. Suppose we take turns at this; I have my curiosities, too. The story in the morning paper was incomplete. What sort of contraption was it that spilled the poison on Mr. Gebert?” Cramer grunted. “You want to know?” “I am curious, and we might as well pass the time.” “Oh, we might.” The inspector removed his cigar and looked at its end with surprise at finding it unlit, touched a match to it, and puffed. “It was like this. Take a piece of ordinary adhesive tape an inch wide and ten inches long.