I got it from a drawer, where I had it ready, and got up to put it on his desk. He put his book down, took his pen from the stand, signed the check, and slid it across to me.
He regarded me with what looked like amiable appreciation. “Archie,” he told me, “that was an impressive performance. Friday I spoke hastily and you acted hastily, and the fait accompli of that torn check had us at an impasse. It was an awkward problem, and you have solved it admirably. By contriving one of your fantastically and characteristically puerile inventions, you made the problem itself absurd and so disposed of it. Admirable and satisfactory.”
He removed the paperweight from the fifties, picked them up, jiggled the edges even, and extended his hand with them, telling me, “I didn’t know we had fifties in the emergency cash reserve. Better put them back. I don’t like money lying around.”
I didn’t take the dough. “Hold it,” I said. “We’re bumping.”
“Bumping?”
“Yes, sir. That didn’t come from the safe. It came from a visitor as described, now up in the south room. I invented nothing, puerile or not. She’s a roomer for a week if you want her. Shall I bring her down so you can decide?”
He was glaring at me. “Bah,” he said, reaching for his book.
“Okay, I’ll go get her.” I started for the door, expecting him to stop me with a roar, but he didn’t. He thought he knew I was playing him. I compromised by going to the kitchen to ask Fritz to come in a minute, and let him precede me back to the office. Wolfe didn’t glance at us.
“A little point of information,” I told Fritz. “Mr. Wolfe thinks I’m exaggerating. Our lady visitor you took a drink to up in the south room — is she old, haggard, deformed, ugly, and crippled?”
“Now, Archie,” Fritz reproved me. “She is quite the opposite. Precisely the opposite!”