“How do you do, sir,” Wolfe said politely. “I’m in a hole and you can help me if you want to. Will you call at my office at six o’clock today with one of your associates? Perhaps Mr. Stevens or Mr. Enright, if one of them is available.”
“What makes you think we can help you out of a hole?” Harvey asked, not rudely. He had a middle bass, a little gruff.
“I’m pretty sure you can. At least I would like to ask your advice. It concerns a man whom you know by the name of William Reynolds. He is involved in a case I’m working on, and the matter has become urgent. That’s why I would like to see you as soon as possible. There isn’t much time.”
“What makes you think I know a man named William Reynolds?”
“Oh, come, Mr. Harvey. After you hear what I have to say you may of course deny that you know him if that’s the way you want it. This can’t be done on the telephone, or shouldn’t be.”
“Hold the wire.”
That wait was longer. Wolfe sat patiently with the receiver at his ear, and I did likewise. In three or four minutes he started to frown, and by the time Harvey’s voice came again he was tapping the arm of his chair with a forefinger.
“If we come,” Harvey asked, “who will be there?”
“You will, of course, and I will. And Mr. Goodwin, my assistant.”
“Nobody else?”