“I could use another drink,” she stated.
“In a minute,” I mumbled, and went on writing, as follows:
To Nero Wolfe: I hereby declare that Archie Goodwin has tried his best to persuade me to sign the statement you wrote, and explained its purpose to me, and I have told him why I must refuse to sign it.
“There,” I said, handing it to her. “That won’t be signing something; it’s just stating that you refuse to sign something. The reason I’ve got to have it, Mr. Wolfe knows how beautiful girls appeal to me, especially sophisticated girls like you, and if I take that thing back to him unsigned he’ll think I didn’t even try. He might even fire me. Just write your name there at the bottom.”
She read it over again and took the pen. She smiled at me, glistening. “You’re not kidding me any,” she said, not unfriendly. “I know when I appeal to a man. You think I’m cold and calculating.”
“Yeah?” I made it a little bitter, but not too bitter. “Anyhow it’s not the point whether you appeal to me, but what Mr. Wolfe will think. It’ll help a lot to have that. Much obliged.” I took the paper from her and blew on her signature to dry it.
“I know when I appeal to a man,” she stated.
There wasn’t another thing there I wanted, but I had practically promised to buy her another drink, so I did so.
It was after six when I got back to West Thirty-fifth Street, so Wolfe had finished in the plant rooms and was down in the office. I marched in and put the unsigned statement on his desk in front of him.
He grunted. “Well?”