The Rubber Band

I glanced at my notebook again, and lifted my shoulders a shade and let them drop negligently, which meant that I was mildly provoked. The thing looked like a mess, possibly a little nasty, with nothing much to be expected in the way of action or profit. The first step, of course, after what Wolfe had said, was for me to go take a look at the thirty-second floor of the Seaboard Building and enter into conversation. But the clock on the wall said 4:20. At six the attractive telephone voice with her out-of-town friend was expected to arrive; I wanted to be there, and I probably wouldn't be it I once got started chasing that thirty grand.

I said to Perry, "Okay. I suppose you'll be at your office in the morning? I'll be there at nine sharp to look things over. I'll want to see most of-"

"Tomorrow morning?" Perry was frowning. "Why not now?"

"I have another appointment."

"Cancel it." The color topped his cheekbones again. "This is urgent. I am one of Wolfe's oldest clients. I took the trouble to come here personally-"

"Sorry, Mr. Perry. Won't tomorrow do? My appointment can't very well be postponed."

"Send someone else."

'There's no one available who could handle it."

This is outrageous!" Perry jerked up in his chair. "I insist on seeing Wolfel"

I shook my head. "You know you can't. You know darned well he's eccentric." But then I thought, after all, I've seen worse guys, and he's a client, and maybe he can't help it if he gets on Mayors* Committees, perhaps they nag him. So I got out of my chair and said, "I'll go upstairs and put it up to Wolfe, he's the boss. If he says-"

The door of the office opened. I turned- Fritz came in, walking formal as he always did to announce a caller. But he didn't get to announce this one. The caller came right along, two steps behind Fritz, and I grinned when I saw he was stepping so soft that Fritz didn't know he was there.

Fritz started, "A gentleman to-"

"Yeah, I see him. Okay."

Fritz turned and saw he had been stalked, blinked, and beat it. I went on observing the caller, because he was a specimen. He was about six feet three inches tall, wearing an old blue serge suit with no vest and the sleeves a mile short, carrying a cream-colored ten-gallon hat, with a face that looked as if it had been left out on the fire escape for over half a century, and walking like a combination of a rodeo cowboy and a panther in the zoo.