“That girl’s mad. I would say, on a guess, she’s about one-fifth as mad as I am.”
He murmured, “Archie. For a moment, don’t disturb me.”
“No, sir. I wouldn’t for anything. A trick is okay, and a deep trick is the staff of life for some people, but where you’ve got us to at present is wallowing in the unplumbed depths of — wait a minute, I’ll look it up, I think it’s in Spenser.”
“Archie, I warn you, some day your are going to become dispensable.” He stirred a little. “If you were a woman and I were married to you, which God forbid, no amount of space available on this globe, to separate us, would put me at ease. I regret the necessity for my rudeness to Miss Hibbard. It was desirable to get rid of her without delay, for there is a great deal to be done.”
“Good. If I can help any—”
“You can. Your notebook, please. Take a telegram.”
I sat down. I wasn’t within a hundred miles of it, and that always irritated me. Wolfe dictated:
“Regarding recent developments and third Chapin warning you are requested to attend meeting this address nine o’clock Monday evening November fifth without fail. Sign it Nero Wolfe and address.”
“Sure.” I had it down. “Just send it to anybody I happen to think of?”
Wolfe had lifted up the edge of his desk blotter and taken a sheet of paper from underneath and was pushing it at me. He said, “Here are the names. Include those in Boston, Philadelphia, and Washington; those farther away can be informed later by letter. Also, make a copy of the list; two — one for the safe. Also—”