The Second Confesion

“And I have correctly stated your objective?” “Perfectly.” “Then after I've read Mr Bascom's reports I'll communicate with you. Good day, sir. I'm glad you like my office-” “But this is urgent! You shouldn't waste an hour!” “I know.” Wolfe was trying to stay polite. “That's another characteristic of matters discussed in this office-urgency. I now have an appointment, and shall then eat lunch, and from two to four I shall be working with my plants. But your affair need not wait on that. Mr Goodwin will read the reports immediately, and after lunch he will go to your office to get all required details-say two o'clock?” James U. Sperling didn't like it at all. Apparently he was set to devote the day to arranging to save his daughter from a fate worse than death, not even stopping for meals. He was so displeased that he merely grunted an affirmative when, as I let him out the front door, I courteously reminded him that he was to expect me at his office at 2.15 and that he could save himself the trouble of mailing the cheque by handing it to me then. I took time out for a brief survey of the long black Wethersill limousine waiting for him at the curb before I returned to the office.

The door to the front room was open and Wolfe's and Hewitt's voices came through. Since their mutual interest was up in the plant rooms and they wouldn't be using the office, I got the bulky envelope Sperling had left on Wolfe's desk and made myself comfortable to read Bascom's reports.

CHAPTER Two

A couple of hours later, at five to two, Wolfe returned his empty coffee cup to the saucer, pushed his chair back, got all of him upright, walked out of the dining-room, and headed down the hall toward his elevator. I, having followed, called to his half an acre of back, “How about three minutes in the office first?” He turned. “I thought you were going to see that man with a daughter.” “I am, but you won't talk business during meals, and I read Bascom's reports, and I've got questions.” He was stuck, because it was only one fifty-seven and his sacred schedule didn't justify his departure for the plant rooms for three minutes yet. But he shot a glance at the door to the office, saw how far away it was, growled, “All right, come on up,” and turned and made for the elevator.