“Uh-huh.
And you were calling this guy Jerry and trying to smuggle him out.
Where to?
How would you like to come down and look over some umbrellas yourself?”
That disgusted me.
I wasn't any too pleased anyhow, letting go of Gebert.
I said,
“Poop and pooh.
Both for you.
You sound like a flatfoot catching kids playing wall ball.
Maybe I wanted the glory of taking him to headquarters myself.
Or maybe I wanted to help him escape from the country by putting him on a subway for Brooklyn, where I believe you live.
You've got him, haven't you, with a handle I gave you to hold him by?
Poops and poohs for all of youse.
It's past my bedtime.”
I strode through the cordon, brushing them aside like flies, went to the roadster and got in, backed out through the gate, circling into the road and missing the fender of the troopers' chariot by an inch, and rolled off along the ruts and bumps.
I was so disgruntled with the complexion of things that I beat my former time between Brewster and 35th Street by two minutes.
Of course I found the house dark and quiet.
There was no note from Wolfe on my desk.
Upstairs, in my room, whither I carried the glass of milk I had got in the kitchen, the pilot light was a red spot on the wall, showing that Wolfe had turned on his switch so that if anyone disturbed one of his windows or stepped in the hall within eight feet of his door, a gong under my bed would start a hullabaloo that would wake even me.
I hit the hay at 2:19.
Chapter Fourteen
I swiveled my chair to face Wolfe.
“Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you.
This may strike a chord.
That lawyer Collinger said that they are proceeding with McNair's remains as instructed in his wilt Services are being held at nine o'clock this evening at the Belford Memorial Chapel on 73rd Street, and tomorrow he'll be cremated and the ashes sent to his sister in Scotland. Collinger seems to think that naturally the executor of McNair's estate will attend the services. Will we go in the sedan?”
Wolfe murmured,
“Puerile.
You are no better than a gadfly.
You may represent me at the Belford Memorial Chapel.”
He shuddered.
“Black and white.
Dreary and hushed obeisance to the grisly terror.
His murderer will be there.
Confound it, don't badger me.”
He resumed with the atlas, doing the double page spread of Arabia.
It was noon Friday.
I had had less than six hours' sleep, having held my levee at eight in order to be ready, without skimping breakfast, to report to Wolfe at nine o'clock in the plant rooms.
He had asked me first off if I had got the red box, and beyond that had listened with his back as he examined a bench of cattleya seedlings.
The news about Gebert appeared to bore him, and he could always carry that off without my being able to tell whether it was a pose or on the level.
When I reminded him that Collinger was due at ten to discuss the will and the estate, and asked if there were any special instructions, he merely shook his head without bothering to turn around.
I left him and went down to the kitchen and ate a couple more pancakes so as to keep from taking a nap.
Fritz was friendly again, forgiving and forgetting that I had jerked Wolfe back from the brink of the Wednesday relapse.
He never toted a grudge.
Around 9:30 Fred Durkin phoned from Brewster.
After my departure from Glennanne the night before the invaders had soon left, and our trio had had a restful night, but they had barely finished their stag breakfast when dicks and troopers had appeared again, armed with papers.
I told Fred to tell Saul to keep an eye on the furniture and other portable objects.
At ten o'clock Henry H.
Barber, our lawyer, came, and a little later Collinger.
I sat and listened to a lot of guff about probate and surrogate and so forth, and went upstairs and got Wolfe's signature to some papers, and did some typing for them.