“You could dictate it.”
“I’m in no humor for dictation.”
“Leave out anything?”
“Include only what is significant. Do not include my telling her that the same car killed Peter Drossos and Matthew Birch, since that has not been published.”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Type it in the form of a statement to be signed by you and me. Two carbons. Date it twelve noon today. You will take the original to Mr. Cramer’s office immediately.”
“Half an hour. For a signed statement I’ll want to take more care.”
“Very well.”
I exceeded my estimate by less than five minutes. It covered three pages, and Wolfe read each page as it was finished. He made no corrections, and even no remarks, which was even stronger evidence of his state of mind than his refusal to dictate. We both signed it, and I stuck it in an envelope.
“Cramer won’t be there,” I told him. “Neither will Stebbins. Not with this to work on.”