There were circulars and lists from both Richardt and Hoehn in the morning mail, also a couple of catalogues from England, and I glanced over them and laid them aside.
There was a phone call from Harry Foster of the Gazette, who had found out somehow that we were supposed to know something, and I kidded him and backed him off.
Then, a little after ten o’clock, the phone rang again, and the first thing I knew I was talking to the Marquis of Clivers himself.
I had half a mind to get Wolfe on, but decided to take the message instead, and after I rang off I gathered up the catalogues and circulars and reports and slipped a rubber band around them and proceeded upstairs.
Wolfe was standing at one side of the third room, frowning at a row of seedling hybrids in their second year.
He looked plenty forbidding, and Horstmann, whom I had passed in the tropical room, had had the appearance of having been crushed to earth.
I sailed into the storm.
I flipped the rubber band on my little bundle and said,
“Here’s those lists from Richardt and also some from Hoehn, and some catalogues from England.
Do you want them or shall I leave them in the potting room?
And Clivers just called on the telephone.
He says those papers came, and if you want to go and look at them, or send me, okay.
He didn’t say anything about his little mix-up with the police last night, and of course I was too polite—”
I stopped because Wolfe wasn’t listening.
His lips had suddenly pushed out a full half inch, and he had glued his eyes on the bundle in my hand.
He stood that way a long while and I shut my mouth and stared at him.
Finally he murmured, “That’s it. Confound you, Archie, did you know it?
Is that why you brought it here?”
I asked courteously,
“Have you gone cuckoo?”
He ignored me.
“But of course not.
It’s your fate again.”
He closed his eyes and sighed a deep sigh, and murmured,
“Rubber Coleman. The Rubber Band. Of course.”
He opened his eyes and flashed them at me.
“Saul is downstairs?
Send him up at once.”
“What about Clivers?”
He went imperious.
“Wait in the office.
Send Saul.”
Knowing there was no use pursuing any inquiries, I hopped back down to the kitchen door and beckoned Saul out into the hall.
He stuck his nose up at me and I told him,
“Wolfe wants you upstairs.
For God’s sake watch your step, because he has just found the buried treasure and you know what to expect when he’s like that.
If he requests anything grotesque, consult me.
I went back to my desk, but of course plant records were out.
I lit a cigarette, and took my pistol out of the drawer and looked it over and put it back again, and kicked over my wastebasket and let it lay.
There were steps on the stairs, and Saul’s voice came from the door.
“Let me out, Archie.
I’ve got work to do,”
“Let yourself out.
What are you afraid of?”
I stuck my hands in my pockets and stretched out my legs and sat on my shoulder blades and scowled.
Ten minutes after Saul had left the phone rang.
I uttered a couple of expletives as I reached for it, thinking it was one of the pack with another howl, but Saul Panzer’s voice was in my ear.
“Archie?
Connect me with Mr. Wolfe.”
I thought, now that was quick work, and plugged and buzzed.