I sat.
“I deny,” he said, “that you were in the slightest degree imprudent. Even if you were, this has transcended such petty considerations.” He picked up a sheet of paper from his desk. “This is a letter which came yesterday from a Mrs. E. R. Baumgarten. She wants me to investigate the activities of a nephew who is employed by the business she owns. I wish to reply. Your notebook.”
He was using what I call his conclusive tone, leaving no room for questions, let alone argument. I got my notebook and pen.
“Dear Mrs. Baumgarten.” He went at it as if he had already composed it in his mind. “Thank you very much for your letter of the thirteenth, requesting me to undertake an investigation for you. Paragraph. I am sorry that I cannot be of service to you. I am compelled to decline because I have been informed by an official of the New York Police Department that my license to operate a private detective agency is about to be taken away from me. Sincerely yours.”
Parker ejaculated something and got ignored. I stayed deadpan, but among my emotions was renewed regret that I had missed Wolfe’s and Cramer’s talk.
Wolfe was saying, “Type it at once and send Fritz to mail it. If any requests for appointments come by telephone refuse them, giving the reason and keeping a record.”
“The reason given in the letter?”
“Yes.”
I swiveled the typewriter to me, got paper and carbon in, and hit the keys. I had to concentrate. This was Cramer’s farthest north. Parker was asking questions, and Wolfe was grunting at him. I finished the letter and envelope, had Wolfe sign it, went to the kitchen and told Fritz to take it to Eighth Avenue immediately, and returned to the office.
“Now,” Wolfe said, “I want all of it. Go ahead.”