In the Thursday morning papers there wasn’t a single word in the coverage of the Keyes case to indicate that anyone had advanced even an inch in the hot pursuit of the murderer.
And I spent the whole day, from ten to six, driving to Lewis Hewitt’s place on Long Island, helping to select and clean and pack ten dozen yearling plants, and driving back again. I did no visible fuming, but you can imagine my state of mind, and on my way home, when a cop stopped me as I was approaching Queensboro Bridge, and actually went so low as to ask me where the fire was, I had to get my tongue between my teeth to keep myself from going witty on him.
While I was lugging the last carton of plants up the stoop I had a surprise. A car I had often seen before, with PD on it, rolled up to the curb and stopped behind the sedan, and Inspector Cramer emerged from it.
“What has Wolfe got now?” he demanded, coming up the steps to me.
“A dozen zygopetalum,” I told him coldly, “a dozen renanthera, a dozen odontoglossum—”
“Let me by,” he said rudely.
I did so.
What I should have done, to drive it in that I was now a delivery boy and not a detective, was to go on helping Theodore get the orchids upstairs, and I set my teeth and started to do that, but it wasn’t long before Wolfe’s bellow came from the office. “Archie!”
I went on in. Cramer was in the red leather chair with an unlighted cigar tilted toward the ceiling by the grip of his teeth. Wolfe, his tightened lips showing that he was enjoying a quiet subdued rage, was frowning at him.
“I’m doing important work,” I said curtly.
“It can wait. Get Mr. Skinner on the phone. If he has left his office, get him at home.”
I would have gone to much greater lengths if Cramer hadn’t been there. As it was, all I did was snort as I crossed to my desk and sat down and started to dial.
“Cut it!” Cramer barked savagely.
I went on dialing.
“I said stop it!”
“That will do, Archie,” Wolfe told me. I turned from the phone and saw he was still frowning at the inspector but his lips had relaxed. He used them for speech. “I don’t see, Mr. Cramer, what better you can ask than the choice I offer. As I told you on the phone, give me your word that you’ll cooperate with me on my terms, and I shall at once tell you about it in full detail, including of course the justification for it. Or refuse to give me your word, that’s the alternative, and I shall ask Mr. Skinner if the District Attorney’s office would like to cooperate with me. I guarantee only that no harm will be done, but my expectation is that the case will be closed. Isn’t that fair enough?”
Cramer growled like a tiger in a cage having a chair poked at him.
“I don’t understand,” Wolfe declared, “why the devil I bother with you. Mr. Skinner would jump at it.”
Cramer’s growl became words. “When would it be — tonight?”
“I said you’d get details after I get your promise, but you may have that much. It would be early tomorrow morning, contingent upon delivery of a package I’m expecting — by the way, Archie, you didn’t put the car in the garage?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. You’ll have to go later, probably around midnight, to meet an airplane. It depends on the airplane, Mr. Cramer. If it arrives tomorrow instead of tonight, we’d have to postpone it until Saturday morning.”
“Where? Here in your office?”
Wolfe shook his head. “That’s one of the details you’ll get. Confound it, do I mean what I say?”
“Search me. I never know. You say you’ll take my word. Why not take my word that I’ll either do it or forget I ever heard it?”
“No. Archie, get Mr. Skinner.”
Cramer uttered a word that was for men only. “You and your goddam charades,” he said bitterly. “Why do you bother with me? You know damn well I’m not going to let you slip it to the D.A.’s office, because you may really have it. You have before. Okay. On your terms.”
Wolfe nodded. The gleam in his eye came and went so fast that it nearly escaped even me.
“Your notebook, Archie. This is rather elaborate, and I doubt if we can finish before dinner.”