Sarah Barstow I said, 'It don’t sound like her.'
'Perhaps not. You know her better than I do. I of course remembered the Brassocattlaelias Truffautianas in her hand when she came downstairs with you. Theodore and I cut a dozen and boxed them, and Fritz took them down. When I came to the office at eleven o'clock and sat at my desk there was a smell of a stranger in the air. I am too sensitive to strangers, that is why I keep these layers over my nerves. I knew of course of the stranger who had called, but I was uncomfortable. I sent for Fritz. He told me that the young man who had brought the note and waited for the orchids had had with him a fiber box, an oblong box with a handle. On departing he had taken the box with him; Fritz saw it in his hand as he left the house. But for at least ten minutes the young man was alone in the front room; the door between that room and the office was unlocked; the door from the hail to the office was closed.'
Wolfe sighed. 'Alas, Miss Barstow did not write the note.'
I was on my feet and going toward him, saying, 'You get out of here.' He shook his head. 'Come on, I demanded, 'I can jump and you can’t. Damn it, come on, quick! I’m used to playing with bombs. Fritz! Fritz!' Fritz came running. 'Fill up the sink with water. To the top. Mr. Wolfe, for God’s sake get out of here, it may go off any second. I’ll find it.'
I heard Fritz back in the kitchen starting the water. Wolfe wouldn’t budge, and the Lord knows I couldn’t budge him. He shook his head and wiggled a finger at me.
'Archie, please. Stop that! Don’t touch anything. There is no bomb. They tick or they sizzle, and I have good ears and have listened. Besides, Mr. Kimball has not had time since his call to construct a good one, and he would use no other. It is not a bomb.-I beg you, no trepidation; drama, but not trepidation. I have reflected, and I have felt. Consider: when Mr. Kimball was in this room he saw me make no movement worthy the name but one. He saw me open the drawer of my desk and put my hand in it. If that suggests nothing to you, I am sure it did to him. We shall see.
I jumped at him, for I thought he was going to open the drawer, but he waved me back; he was merely getting ready to leave his chair. He said, 'Get my red thorn walking stick.-Confound it, will you do as I say?'
I ran to the hall and got the stick from the stand and ran back. Wolfe was moving around the desk. He came clear around to the side opposite his chair, and reached over for the tray and pulled it across to him, with the glass and bottles still on it.
'Now,' he said, 'please do it this way.-No, first close the door to the hall.' I went and closed the door and returned. 'Thank you. Grasp the stick by its other end. Reach across the desk and catch the tip of the handle on the lower edge of the drawer-front. Push, and the drawer will open.-Wait. Open it, if you can, quite slowly; and be ready to free the stick quickly should it occur to you to use it for any other purpose. Proceed.'
I proceeded. The tip of the handle’s curve caught nicely under the edge of the drawer, but on account of the angle I had to keep the drawer wouldn’t start. I tried to push so as to open the drawer gradually, but I had to push harder, and suddenly the drawer popped out half a foot and I nearly dropped the stick. I lifted up to get the stick loose, and yelled: 'Look out!'
Wolfe had a beer bottle in each hand, by the neck, and he brought one of them crashing onto the desk but missed the thing that had come out of the drawer. It was coming fast and its head was nearly to the edge of the desk where we were while its tail was still in the drawer. I had got the stick loose and was pounding at its head but it kept slashing around and I couldn’t hit it, and the desk was covered with beer and the pieces of the broken bottle. I was ready to jump back and was grabbing Wolfe to pull him back with me when he came down with the second bottle right square on the ugly head and smashed it flat as a piece of tripe. The long brown body writhed all over the desk, but it was done for.
The second bottle had busted too, and we were splattered all over. Wolfe stepped back and pulled out his handkerchief and began to wipe his face. I held on to the stick.
'Nom de Diem!'
It was Fritz, horrified.
Wolfe nodded. 'Yes. Fritz, here’s a mess for you. I’m sorry. Get things.'
CHAPTER 16
I tried it again. 'Fair-duh-lahnss?'
Wolfe nodded. 'Somewhat better. Still too much 'n' and not enough nose. You are not a born linguist, Archie. Your defect is probably not mechanical. To pronounce French properly you must have within you a deep antipathy, not to say scorn, for some of the most sacred of the Anglo-Saxon prejudices. In some manner you manage without that scorn, I do not quite know how. Yes, fer-de-lance. Bothrops atrox. Except for the bushmaster, it is the most dreaded of all the vipers.'
Fritz had cleaned up the mess, with my help, and served lunch, and we had eaten. When the snake had finished writhing I had stretched it out on the kitchen floor and measured it: six feet, three inches. At the middle it was almost as thick as my wrist. It was a dirty yellowish brown, and even dead it looked damn mean. After measuring it I stood up and, poking at it with the yardstick, wondered what to do with it-observing to Wolfe, standing near, that I couldn’t just stuff it in the garbage pail. Should I take it and throw it in the river?
Wolfe’s cheeks folded. 'No, Archie, that would be a pity. Get a carton and excelsior from the basement, pack it nicely, and address it to Mr. Manuel Kimball. Fritz can take it to the post office. It will relieve Mr. Kimball’s mind.'
That had been done, and it hadn’t spoiled my lunch. Now we were back in the office, waiting for Maria Maffei, whom Wolfe had telephoned after receiving my call from Fordham Road.
I said, 'It comes from South America.'
Wolfe was leaning back in his chair content, with half-shut eyes. He was not at all displeased that it
