Shattuck stared at him, speechless.
We were rolling along the West Side Highway. I was myself sufficiently startled to look aside at Shattuck, and returned to my driving just in time to jerk away from kissing the curb.
“Are you crazy?” Shattuck found his voice to ask.
“No, sir,” Wolfe said. “I did state an overwhelming probability as a certainty. We all do that.”
“I won’t be alive? An hour from now?” Shattuck laughed, and it wasn’t very hollow at that. “This is incredible. I suppose you’re going to threaten to blow me to pieces with that grenade unless I sign a confession to anything you tell me to. Absolutely unbelievable!”
“Not like that. The grenade, yes. I brought it along for you to kill yourself with.”
“By God — you are crazy!”
Wolfe shook his head. “Don’t shout at me. Keep your wits. You’re going to need them. Archie, where are you going?”
“Leaving the highway,” I told him, “for the park entrance. Then what?”
“Secluded roads in the park.”