“That will do. You don’t know him.”
“No, sir.” Saul was apologetic at having to report a man for whom he had no entry in the extensive and accurate card index he carried in his skull.
Wolfe said, “Fred will join you across the street from Santoretti’s as soon as possible. If they separate, give him the man. That woman could be difficult.”
“Yes, sir, I agree.”
Wolfe hung up and tossed me a nod, and I went to the kitchen, where I interrupted Fred in the middle of a yawn that would have held a quart of vinegar. I gave him the picture, told him it was a till further notice, with emphasis on identity, and herded his ungainly bulk through the hall and out the front door. Standing out on the stone stoop for a breath of nice hot July air, watching him hotfoot it for the corner, I observed a taxi zooming along in my direction, heard the brakes screech, and saw it stop with a jerk at the curb below me. A woman got out, paid the driver and dismissed him, crossed the sidewalk and mounted the seven steps, and smiled sweetly at me in the light that came through the open door.
“May I see Mr. Wolfe?”
I nodded hospitably and ushered her into the hall, asked her to wait a minute, and went to the office and told Wolfe that Miss May Hawthorne requested an audience.
Chapter 6
The office had been restored to its normal condition as to chairs. As usual, the red one was at the right of Wolfe’s desk, turned to face him, and the college president sat in it. She looked tired and her eyes had little red streaks on the whites, but her backbone wasn’t sagging.
Wolfe said, “That was quite a shock you folks got here this afternoon.”