My heart wasn't really in it. For my part, I believed the cripple, third warning and all. In the first place, Wolfe hadn't said definitely that he didn't; and secondly, I had known Wolfe to be wrong, not often, but more than once.
When the event proved that he had been wrong about something, it was a delight to see him handle it. He would wiggle his finger a little more rapidly and violently than usual, and mutter with his eyes nearly open at me, 'Archie. I love to make a mistake, it is my only assurance that I cannot reasonably be expected to assume the burden of omniscience.'^ But although I believed the cripple and I was perfectly comfortable with the notion that Hibbard wasn't using up any more air, I couldn't see that there was anything better to be done than to smell around places where he had once been alive. I left the general list – neighbors, friends, . Pupils and miscellaneous – to Saul, and chose for myself the members of the • League of the White Feather. ^_ The Tribune office was only sevenblocks away, so I called there first, but Mike Ayers wasn't in. Next I went up on Park Avenue, to Drummond's florist shop, and the little fat tenor was all ready for a talk. He wanted to know many things, and I hope he believed what I told ^ him, but he had nothing to offer in exchange that helped me any. From there I went back down to Thirty-ninth Street to see Edwin Robert Byron the editor, and that was also empty. For over half an hour about all he found time for was 'Excuse me' as he was reaching for the telephone. I was thinking, with all that practice, if he should happen to get fired as an editor he could step right in anywhere as a telephone girl.
When I was out working I was supposed | to phone in at eleven o'clock, at which I time Wolfe got down from the plantrooms, to ask if there were any new instructions. Leaving Edwin Robert Byron's office a little before eleven, I decided I might as well roll over to the house in person, since it was only a couple | of blocks out of my way to the next call.
Wolfe wasn't down yet. I went to the kitchen and asked Fritz if anyone had left a corpse on the stoop for us, and he said he didn't think so. I heard the elevator and went to the office.
Wolfe was in one of his sighing moods.
He sighed as he said good morning and he sighed as he got into his chair. It might have meant anything from one measly little orchid getting bugs on it up to a major relapse. I waited until he got his little routine chores done before trying to pass a couple of words.
Out of one of the envelopes in the morning mail he took some pieces of paper that looked familiar from where I stood. I approached. Wolfe looked up at me and back at the papers.
I asked, 'What's that, FarrelPs second edition?'
He handed me one of the sheets, a different size from the others. I read it: ^ • • Dear Mr. Wolfe:
Here are two more samples which I failed to deliver with the others. I | found them in another pocket. I am called suddenly to Philadelphia on a chance at a commission, and am mailing them to you so you will have•' them first thing in the morning.
Sincerely,
Augustus Farrell
Wolfe had already got his magnifying glass and was inspecting one of the samples. I felt my blood coming up to my head, which meant a hunch. I told myself to hang onto the aplomb, that there was no more reason to expect it of these than of the others, and there were only two chances. I stood and watched Wolfe.
After a little he pushed the sheet aside and .shook his head, and reached for the other one.
One more, I thought. If it's that one he's got one of his facts. I looked for an expression on his face as he examined it, but of course I might as well have saved my eyes the strain. He moved the glass along, intent, but a little too rapidly for me not to suspect that he had had a hunch too. At length he looked up at me, and sighed.
'No.' ^
I demanded, 'You mean it's not it?'
'No, I believe, is negative. No.'
'Let me see the damn things.'
He pushed them across and I got the glass and gave them a look. I didn't need to be very thorough, after the practice I had had the night before. I was really almost incredulous, and sore as the devil, because in the detective business nothing is more important than to find your hunches good as often as possible. If you once get off of your hunches you might as well give up and go and get a job on the Homicide Squad. Not to mention that Wolfe had said that that typewriter was one of the two things he needed.
He was saying, 'It is a pity Mr. Farrell has deserted us. I am not sure that my next suggestion should await his return; and he does not, by the way, mention his return.' He picked up the note from Farrell and looked at it. 'I believe, Archie, that you had best abandon the Hibbard search temporarily -'
He stopped himself; and said in a different tone:
'Mr. Goodwin. Hand me the glass.'
I gave it to him. His using my formal handle when we were alone meant that he was excited almost beyond control, but I had no idea what about. Then I saw what he wanted the glass for. He was looking through it at the note from Farrell! I stared at him. He kept on looking. I didn't say anything. A beautiful suspicion was getting into me that you shouldn't ever ignore a hunch.
Finally Wolfe said, 'Indeed.'
I held out my hand and he gave me the note and the glass. I saw it at a glance, but I kept on looking, it was so satisfactory to see that a off the line and a little to the left, and the n cockeyed, and all the other signs. I laid it on the table and grinned at Wolfe.
'Old Eagle Eye. Damn me for missing it.'
He said, 'Take off your coat and hat,
