Plot It Yourself

Chairman Harvey snorted. “Comic relief. Always welcome. Speaking for myself, if I were Dick Echols I wouldn’t hesitate. Unfortunately I’m not in his class and never will be. I’ve had six books published, and my last one. Why the Gods Laugh, is in its ninth thousand, which is a record for me.” He looked around. “What about Mr Oshin’s idea? Do we like it?”

“I do,” Oshin said. “Ten thousand dollars’ worth, and I think Miss Wynn should match it.”

Amy Wynn looked at Reuben Imhof. “We’ll discuss it,” he told her, and turned to the chairman. “It certainly won’t do any harm for Miss Ballard to sound out Mr Echols and his agent. If they agree to co-operate, then we can decide whether to go ahead.”

“In my opinion,” Gerald Knapp said, “we should decide that now. I fully approve of Mr Oshin’s suggestion and move that we adopt it. If Mr Echols consents it shouldn’t be necessary to have another meeting. Mr Wolfe could proceed at once to have the necessary papers drawn and make the offer to Simon Jacobs.”

“Second the motion,” Oshin said.

“Further discussion?” Harvey asked. “If not, all in favour raise your hands. It seems to be unanimous. Miss Wynn, when can you let me know whether you will match Mr Oshin’s ten thousand? Today?”

“Oh, yes,” she assured him. “Certainly by five o’clock.”

“Good. If I’m not at home call Miss Ballard at the NAAD. Now, Mr Wolfe, I hope this has changed your mind. I hope you’ll agree that we’re making some progress, and of course you and Mr Goodwin made it possible. Have you any comment?”

“Yes,” Wolfe said. “I am a detective, not a conveyor of bait. However, since Mr Goodwin named Mr Jacobs as the prospective receiver, he and I have a responsibility. If the preparations are satisfactory, we will act.”

Chapter 7

At twenty minutes past four that afternoon Amy Wynn told me, not on the phone, in person, that she would match Oshin’s ten grand.

The development started shortly after three o’clock with a phone call from Reuben Imhof. Wolfe and I were in the office, having lunched together in the dining room in a slightly improved atmosphere. He was at his desk dictating letters, and I was at mine taking them, when the phone rang and I answered it.

“Nero Wolfe’s office, Archie Goodwin speaking.”

“This is Reuben Imhof. I understand that Wolfe never leaves his house on business.”

“Correct. He doesn’t.”

“All right, you, then. Come up here quick. My office, Victory Press.”

“I’m pretty busy. Say in an hour?”

“No. Now. Nothing I can tell you on the phone. Now!”