“Good. The front room is soundproofed, or you can go upstairs.”
“There’s more room outdoors. Come on, Jerry.”
Stevens led the way. I went to the front to let them out and then returned to the office. What I saw, reentering, gave me an excuse to use the grin I had squelched. Wolfe had opened a drawer and got out a sheet of paper and the tube of paste.
“Before they’re hatched?” I inquired.
“Bah. The screw is down hard.”
“Taking candy from a baby,” I admitted. “Though I must say they’re no babies, especially Stevens.”
Wolfe grunted. “He’s third from the top in the American Communist hierarchy.”
“He doesn’t look it but he acts it. I noticed they didn’t even ask what evidence you’ve got that Reynolds did the killing, because they don’t give a damn. All they want is to get the articles stopped and him burned. What I don’t get, why did they just swallow the letter from a friend? Why didn’t they give Reynolds a chance to answer a question?”
“They don’t give chances.” Wolfe was scornful. “Could he have proved the letter was a lie? How? Could he have explained the photograph of his membership card? He could only have denied it, and they wouldn’t have believed him. They trust no one, especially not one another, and I don’t blame them. I suppose I shouldn’t put paste on this thing until they have written their names on it.”
I wasn’t quite as cocksure as he seemed to be. I thought they might have to take it to a meeting, and that couldn’t be done in half an hour. But apparently he knew more than I did about Stevens’s rank and authority. I had let them out at 6:34, and at 6:52 the bell rang and I went to let them in again. Only eighteen minutes, but the nearest phone booth was only half a block away.