Before Midnight

Susan Tescher was a tough one. First Clock told me she was in conference. Then Clock said she wasn't there today. I asked for Mr. Knudsen, the tall and bony one, but he had stepped out. I asked for Mr. Schultz, the tall and broad one, and he was engaged. I asked for Mr. Hibbard, the tall and skinny one, of the legal staff, and darned if I didn't get him. I told him about the meeting, and who would be there, and said that if Miss Tescher didn't come she might find herself tomorrow morning confronted with a fait accompli, knowing as I did that any lawyer would feel that a guy who used words like fait accompli was a man to be reckoned with. As I was starting to dial the Churchill number for another stab at Miss Frazee, the doorbell rang. I went to the hall for a look through the panel, then opened the door to the office. Apparently Wolfe hadn't moved a muscle.

I announced, "Stebbins."

He opened his eyes. "At least it's better than Mr. Cramer. Bring him in."

I went and unbolted the door, swung it wide, and said hospitably, "Hello there. We've been waiting for you."

"I'll bet you have." He marched on by me, making quite an air wash, and on by the rack, removing his hat as he entered the office. By the time I attended to the door and caught up he was standing in front of Wolfe's desk and talking. "… the copy of the contest answers that Goodwin made last Wednesday. Where is it?"

If you want to see Purley Stebbins at his worst you should see him with Nero Wolfe. He knows that on the record of the evidence, of which there is plenty, Wolfe is more than a match for him and Cramer put together, and by his training and experience evidence is all that counts, but he can't believe it and he won't. The result is that he talks too loud and too fast. I have seen Purley at work with different kinds of characters, taking his time with both his head and his tongue, and he's not bad at all. He hates to come at Wolfe, so he always comes himself instead of passing the buck.

Wolfe muttered at him, "Sit down, Mr. Stebbins. As you know, I don't like to stretch my neck."

That was the sort of thing. Purley would have liked to say, "To hell with your neck," and nearly did, but blocked it and lowered himself onto a chair. He never took the red leather one.

Wolfe looked at me. "Archie, tell him about the copy you made."