The League of Frightened Men

Cabot raised his brows. "You should write our class history, Mr. Wolfe. Pit tooky-to drink in 1930, one of the " depression casualties. Not, like Mike m Ayers, for the annoyance of other people.

For his own destruction. I see you have him down for five dollars. I'll pay it." t ^Indeed. That would indicate that you are prepared to accept my proposal." is ^Of course I am. We all are. But you know that. What else can we do? We are menaced with death, there's no question about it. I have no idea why, if Paul had this in him, he waited so long to get it out – possibly his recent success gave him a touch of confidence that he needed, or money to finance his plans – I don't know. Of course we accept your proposal.

Did you know that a month ago Adier and Pratt and Bowen seriously discussed the notion of hiring a gangster to kill him? They invited me in, but I wouldn't – everyone's squeamishness begins somewhere, and I suppose that was the starting point for mine – and they abandoned the idea. What else can we do?

The police are helpless, which is understandable and nothing against them; they are equipped to frustrate many kinds of men, but not Paul Chapin – I grant him his quality. Three of us hired detectives a month ago, and we might as well have engaged a troop of Boy Scouts.

They spent days looking for the typewriter on which the warnings were written, and never even found it; and if they had found it they would not have been able to fasten it on Paul Chapin."

"Yes." Wolfe reached out and pressed the button for Fritz. "Your detectives called on me and offered to place their findings at my disposal – with your consent." Fritz appeared, and Wolfe nodded for beer. "Mr. Cabot. What does Mr. Chapin mean when he says that you killed the man in him?"

"Well… that's poetry, isn't it?"

"It might be called that. Is it merely poetry, or is it also technical information?" I "I don't know." Cabot's eyes fell. I watched him and thought to myself, he's actually embarrassed; so there's kinks in your love-life too, huh, smoothie? He went on, "I couldn't say; I doubt if any of us could. You'd have to ask his doctor." 3fe la A new voice cut in. Julius Adier and ass-.,-;-;

Alex Drummond had come over a few minutes before and stood listening; Adier, I suppose, because he was a lawyer and therefore didn't trust lawyers, and Drummond since he was a tenor. I never saw a tenor that wasn't inquisitive. At this point Drummond horned in with a giggle:

"Or his wife."