would have been instructive to see her using the knife on the back of her neck that day, I would wager she did it much as one trims a chop. After I had explained the situation to her, we discussed it. The moment arrived when it seemed pointless to continue our conference in that cold, dark forbidding spot, and besides, I had learned what had happened to you. She seemed so uncertain as to what she had used to flavor your coffee that I thought it best to reach a telephone with as little delay as possible. – Ah! Mr.
Hibbard, I trust the long afternoon has been fairly tolerable.'
Hibbard walked in, looking a little groggy, still wearing my brown necktie.
Behind him came Fritz, to announce dinner. ^ ^
21
cr They piled in early. By nine o'clock ten of them had already arrived, checked off on my list, and I was doing the honors. Four of them I hadn't seen before: Collard and Gaines from Boston, Irving from Philadelphia and Professor Mollison of Yale. Mike Ayers, stony sober on arrival, helped me get drinks around. At nine sharp Leopold Elkus joined the throng. I had no idea what Wolfe had told him to get him there; anyway there he was, and what he wanted to drink was a glass of port, and I restrained an impulse to tell him there was no nitroglycerin in it. He recognized me and acted gracious. Some more came, among them Augustus Farrell, who had phoned on Saturday that he was back from Philadelphia and had landed the commission for Mr. Allenby's library.
Wolfe, surmising that what he was really phoning about was the twenty bucks due him for Wednesday's work, had had me mail him a check.
They didn't seem as subdued as they had a week before. They took to the drinks with more gusto, and gathered in groups and talked, and two or three of them even came up to me and got impatient. Collard, the Boston textile man who owned the cliff that Judge Harrison had fallen off of, told me he hoped to see the last act of the opera, and I said I was sorry but I myself had had to give up that hope long ago. I overheard Elkus telling Ferdinand Bowen that it appeared likely that Nero Wolfe was in an advanced stage of megalomania, and tried to get Bowen's reply but missed it.
There were fifteen of them present at a quarter past nine, which was the time Wolfe had told me he would make his entrance.
It was a good entrance all right. He did it in perfect style. I was watching for him, not to miss it. He came in, three paces in, and stood there, until they had all turned to look at him and the talking had stopped. He inclined his head and used his resonance: 'Good evening, gentlemen.'
Then he faced the door and nodded at Fritz, who was standing on the threshold.
Fritz moved aside, and Andrew Hibbard walked in.
That started the first uproar. Pratt and Mike Ayers were the quickest to react.
They both yelled 'Andy!' and jumped for him. Others followed. They encircled him, shouted at him, grabbed his hands and pounded him on the back. They had him hemmed in so that I couldn't see any of him, to observe what kind of psychology he was taking it with. It was easy to imagine, hearing them and looking at them, that they really liked Andy Hibbard. Maybe even Drummond and Bowen liked him; you've got to take the bitter along with the sweet.
Wolfe had eluded the stampede. He had got to his desk and lowered himself into his chair, and Fritz had brought him beer.
I looked at him, and was glad I did, for it wasn't often he felt like winking at me and I wouldn't have wanted to miss it. He returned my look and gave me the wink, and I grinned at him. Then he drank some beer.
The commotion went on a while longer.
Mike Ayers came over to Wolfe's desk and said something which I couldn't hear on account of the noise, and Wolfe nodded and replied something. Mike Ayers went back and began shooing' them into chairs, and Cabot and Farrell helped him.
They subsided. Pratt took Hibbard by the arm and steered him to one of the big armchairs, and then sat down next to him and took out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes. n Wolfe started the ball rolling. He sat pretty straight, his forearms on the arms of his chair, his chin down, his eyes open on them.; ^ 'Gentlemen. Thank you for coming here this evening. Even if we should later come to disagreement, I am sure we are in accord as to the felicitous nature of our preamble. We are all glad that Mr.
Hibbard is with us. Mr. Goodwin and I I are gratified that we were able to play the Stanley to his Livingstone. As to the to look at him and the talking had stopped. He inclined his head and used his resonance: 'Good evening, gentlemen.'
Then he faced the door and nodded at Fritz, who was standing on the threshold.
Fritz moved aside, and Andrew Hibbard walked in.
That started the first uproar. Pratt and Mike Ayers were the quickest to react.
They both yelled 'Andy!' and jumped for him. Others followed. They encircled him, shouted at him, grabbed his hands and pounded him on the back. They had him hemmed in so that I couldn't see any of him, to observe what kind of psychology he was taking it with. It was easy to imagine, hearing them and looking at them, that they really liked Andy Hibbard. Maybe even Drummond and Bowen liked him; you've got to take the bitter along with the sweet.
Wolfe had eluded the stampede. He had got to his desk and lowered himself into his chair, and Fritz had brought him beer.
I looked at him, and was glad I did, for it wasn't often he felt like winking at me and I wouldn't have
