Champagne for One

That’s the sort of situation where being known to the subject cramps you; I couldn’t go in. All I could do was hunt a post, and I found a perfect one: a narrow passage between two buildings almost directly across the street. I could go in a good ten feet from the building line, where no light came at all, and still see the front of Tom’s Joint. There was even an iron thing to sit on if my feet needed a rest.

They didn’t. I didn’t last long enough. I hadn’t been there more than five minutes when suddenly company came. I was alone, and then I wasn’t. A man had slid in, caught sight of me, and was peering in the darkness. A question that had arisen on various occasions, which of us had better eyesight, was settled when we spoke simultaneously. He said, "Archie" and I said, "Saul".

"What the hell," I said.

"Are you on her too?" he asked. "You might have told me."

"I’m on a man. I’ll be damned. Where is yours?"

"Across the street. Tom’s Joint. She just came."

"This is fate," I said. "It is also a break in a thousand. Of course, it could be coincidence. Mr Wolfe says that in a world that operates largely at random, coincidences are to be expected, but not this one. Have you spoken with her? Does she know you?"

"No."

"My man knows me. His name is Austin Byne. He is six-feet one, hundred and seventy pounds, lanky, loose-jointed, early thirties, brown hair and eyes, skin tight on his bones. Go in and take a look. If you want a bet, one will get you ten that they’re together."

"I never bet against fate," he said, and went. The five minutes that he was gone were five hours. I sat down on the iron thing and got up again three times, or maybe four.

He came, and said. "They’re together in a booth in a rear corner. No one is with them. He’s eating oysters."

"He’ll soon be eating crow. What do you want for Christmas?"

"I have always wanted your autograph."

"You’ll get it. I’ll tattoo it on you. Now we have a problem. She’s yours and he’s mine. Now they’re together. Who’s in command?"

"That’s easy, Archie. Mr Wolfe."

"I suppose so, damn it. We could wrap it up by midnight. Take them to a basement, I know one, and peel their hides off. If he’s eating oysters there’s plenty of time to phone. You or me?"

"You. I’ll stick here."

"Where’s Orrie?"

"Lost. When she came out he was for feet and I was for wheels, and she took a taxi."

"I saw it pull up. Okay. Sit down and make yourself at home."