Johnny shot me a glance, as much as to say, “Try and match that one.”
“How far is it to Richdale?” Wolfe demanded.
“From here? Oh, twenty-five miles.”
“How much was the taxi fare?”
“Eight dollars and forty cents counting the tip. The bridge—”
“Don’t put it on expense. Pay it yourself.”
“But — but, sir — Archie always brings people here—”
“Pay it yourself. You are not Archie. Thank God. One Archie is enough. I sent you to get facts, not Miss Tracy — certainly I didn’t send you to coerce her with preposterous threats and fables about my relations with the police. Go to the kitchen — no. Go home.”
“But, sir—”
“Go home. And for God’s sake quit trying to imitate Archie. You’ll never make it. Go home.”