'All right. Let's go. Beat it.' •He climbed out and went. I sat and waited. Pretty soon I saw him come out of ^he laundry with the snoop, and start off ^ the other direction. I stepped on the starter and pushed the gear lever, and ^lled along. This time I stopped right in ^ont of the Coffee Pot. I got out and went in. I saw no cop around.
Pinkie was there, at the same table as before, with what looked like the same bowl of soup. I glanced at the other customers, on the stools, and observed nothing terrifying. I walked over to Pinkie | and stopped at his elbow. He looked up and said: n 'Well, goddam it.'
Looking at him again, I thought there i was a chance Wolfe was right. I said,
'Come on, Inspector Cramer wants to see you,' and took bracelets out of one pocket and my automatic out of another.
There must have been something in my eyes that made him suspicious, and 141 say the little devil had nerve. He said, 'I don't believe it. Show me your goddam badge.' | I couldn't afford an argument. I grabbed his collar and lifted him up out of his chair and set him on his feet. Then I snapped the handcuffs on him. I kept the gat completely visible and told him, 'Get going.' I heard one or two mutters from, the lunch counter, but didn't bother to look. Pinkie said, 'My overcoat.' I
A
grabbed it off the hook and hung it on my arm, and marched him out. He went nice. Instead of trying to hide the bracelets, like most of them do, he held his hands stuck out in front.
The only danger was that a flatfoot might happen along outside and offer to help me, and the roadster wasn't a police car. But all I saw was curious citizens. I herded him to the car, opened the door and shoved him in, and climbed in after him. I had left the engine running, just in case of a hurry. I rolled off, got to Seventh Avenue, and turned north.
I said, 'Now listen. I've got two pieces of information. First, to ease your mind, I'm taking you to Thirty-fifth Street to call on Mr. Nero Wolfe. Second, if you open your trap to advertise anything, you'll go there just the same, only faster and more unconscious.' ‹I have no desire to call -'
'Shut up.' But I was grinning inside, for his voice was different; he was already
Jumping his character. | The evening traffic was out playing tag, and it took long enough to get to West Thirty-fifth Street. I pulled up in front of the house, told my passenger to sit still, got out and walked around and opened his door, and told him to come on. I went behind him up the steps, used my key on the portal, and nodded him in. While I was taking off my hat and coat he started reaching up for his cap, but I told him to leave it on and steered him for the office.
Wolfe was sitting there with an empty beer glass, looking at the design the dried foam had left. I shut the office door and stood there, but the runt kept going, clear to the desk. Wolfe looked at him, nodded faintly, and then looked some more. He spoke suddenly, to me:
'Archie. Take Mr. Hibbard's cap, remove the handcuffs, and place a chair for him.'
I did those things. This gentleman, it appeared, represented the second fact Wolfe had demanded, and I was glad to wait on him. He held his hands out for me to take the bracelets off, but it seemed to be an effort for him, and a glance at his eyes showed me that he wasn't feeling any too prime. I eased the chair up back of his knees, and all of a sudden he slumped into it, buried his face in his hands, and stayed that way. Wolfe and I regarded him, with not as much commiseration as he might have thought he had a right to expect if he had been looking at us. To me he was the finest hunk of bacon I had lamped for several moons.
Wolfe tipped me a nod, and I went to the cabinet and poured a stiff one and brought it over. I said:
'Here, try this.'
Finally he looked up. 'What is it?'
'It's a goddam drink of rye whiskey.''
He shook his head and reached for the drink simultaneously. I knew he had some soup in him so didn't look for any catastrophe. He downed half of it, c spluttered a little, and swallowed the rest.
I said to Wolfe:
H 'I brought him in with his cap on so you could see him that way. Anyhow, all I ever saw was a photograph. And he was supposed to be dead. And I'm here to tell you, it would have been a pleasure to plug I him, and no kinds of comments will be needed now or any other time.'
Wolfe, disregarding me, spoke to the runt: 'Mr. Hibbard. You know of the ancient New England custom of throwing a suspected witch into the river, and if she drowned she was innocent. My personal opinion of a large drink of straight whiskey is that it provides a converse test: if you survive it you can risk anything.
Mr. Goodwin did not in fact plug you?'
Hibbard looked at me and blinked, and at Wolfe and blinked again. He cleared his throat twice, and said conversationally:
'The truth of the matter is, I am not an adventurous man. I have been under a terrible strain for eleven days. And shall . be – for many more.'
'I hope not.' I
Hibbard shook his head. 'And shall. •
God help me. And shall.' •
'You call on God now?'
'Rhetorically. I am further than ever from Him, as a reliance.' He looked at me. 'Could I have a little more whiskey?'
