Not Quite Dead Enough (The Rex Stout Library)

Ryder handed it to him, and I got up and crossed the room to take a squint over Wolfe’s shoulder. Tinkham and Lawson got the same notion and did likewise. Wolfe considerately held it at an angle so we could all see. It was a plain sheet of ordinary bond paper, and the text was single-spaced neatly in the center of the sheet with no errors or exings. From habit and experience I noted two mechanical peculiarities: the c hit below the line; and the a was off to the left-in war, for instance, it touched the top corner of the w. I was going on from there when Tinkham and Lawson finished and moved away, and Wolfe handed the sheet to me to return to Ryder.

“Hot stuff,” Lawson said, sitting down. “He could a tale unfold, but he doesn’t. Nothing but insinuations.”

Fife asked him sarcastically, “Does that close the matter, Lieutenant?”

“Sir?”

“I ask, is your verdict final, or are we to be permitted to proceed?”

“Oh.” Lawson showed color. “I beg your pardon, sir. I was merely observing-”

“There’s another way to observe. Look and listen.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If I may be allowed-” Colonel Tinkham offered.

“Well?”

“Interesting points about that letter. It was written by a person who is incisive and highly literate and who also types expertly. Or it was dictated to a stenographer, which doesn’t seem likely. The margining at the right is remarkably even. And the double spaces after periods-”

Wolfe made a noise, and Fife glanced at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Wolfe said. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind if this chair were properly constructed and of a proper size. I suggest, if the discussion is to be at kindergarten level, that we all sit on the floor.”

“Not a bad idea. We may come to that.” Fife turned to Shattuck. “When did you get the letter?”

“In the mail Saturday morning,” Shattuck told him. “Plain envelope of course, address typed, marked personal. Postmarked New York, Station R, 7:30 p.m. Friday. My first impulse was to turn it over to the F.B.I., but I decided that wouldn’t be fair to you fellows, so I telephoned Harold-Colonel Ryder. I was coming to New York today anyway-speaking at a dinner tonight of the National Industrial Association-and we agreed this was the way to handle it.”

“You haven’t-you didn’t take it up with General Carpenter?”

“No.” Shattuck smiled. “After that performance when he appeared to testify before my committee a couple of months ago-I didn’t feel like crossing his path.”

“This is his path.”