I decided to go have a look at the family, and here is something I'm not proud of. I had been so damn' hungry that no thought of other stomachs had entered my head. But when, three cars back, I saw them and the look on their faces, the thought did come. Of course they were under other strains too, one in particular, but part of that pale, tight, anguished expression unquestionably came from hunger. They had had no time to grab anything on the way, and their manner of life was such that the idea of buying a meal on a train might not even occur to them.
I went back to the end of the car, stood facing the occupants, and called out: “Get your breakfast in the dining car, three cars ahead! Moderate prices!” Then I passed down the aisle, repeating it at suitable intervals, once right at their seat. It worked. They exchanged some words and then got up and staggered forward. Not only that, I had made other sales too: a woman, a man, and a couple.
By the time the family returned we were less than an hour from New York. I looked them over as they came down the aisle. Mother was small and round-shouldered and her hair was going grey. Her nose still looked thin and sharp-pointed, but not as much so as it had when she was starving. Nancylee was better-looking, and much more intelligent-looking, than I would have expected from her pictures in the papers or from Saul's description. She had lots of medium-brown hair coming below her shoulders, and blue eyes, so dark that you had to be fairly close to see the blue, that were always on the go. She showed no trace either of Mom's pointed nose or of Pop's acreage of brow. If I had been in high school I would gladly have bought her a Coke or even a sundae.
Danger would begin, I well knew, the minute they stepped off the train at Pennsylvania Station and mounted the stairs. I had decided what to do if they headed for a taxi or bus or the subway, or if Mom started to enter a phone booth. So I was right on their heels when the moment for action came, but the only action called for was a pleasant walk. They took the escalator to the street level, left the station by the north exit, and turned left. I trailed. At Ninth Avenue they turned uptown, and at Thirty-fifth Street left again. That cinched it that they were aiming straight for Wolfe's house, non-stop, and naturally I was anything but crestfallen, but what really did my heart good was the timing. It was exactly eleven o'clock, and Wolfe would get down from the plant rooms and settled in his chair just in time to welcome them.
So it was. West of Tenth Avenue they began looking at the numbers, and I began to close up. At our stoop they halted, took another look, and mounted the steps.
By the time they were pushing the button I was at the bottom of the stoop, but they had taken no notice of me. It would have been more triumphant if I could have done it another way, but the trouble was that Fritz wouldn't let them in until he had checked with Wolfe. So I took the steps two at a time, used my key and flung the door open, and invited them: “Mrs Shepherd? Go right in.” She crossed the threshold. But Nancylee snapped at me: “You were on the train. There's something funny about this.” “Mr Wolfe's expecting you,” I said, “if you want to call that funny. Anyway, come inside to laugh, so I can shut the door.” She entered, not taking her eyes off me. I asked them if they wanted to leave their things in the hall, and they didn't, so I escorted them to the office.
Wolfe, in his chair behind his desk, looked undecided for an instant and then got to his feet. I really appreciated that. He never rises when men enter, and his customary routine when a woman enters is to explain, if he feels like taking the trouble, that he keeps his chair because getting out of it and back in again is a more serious undertaking for him than for most men. I knew why he was breaking his rule. It was a salute to me, not just for producing them, but for getting them there exactly at the first minute of the day that he would be ready for them.
“Mrs Shepherd,” I said, “this is Mr Nero Wolfe. Miss Nancylee Shepherd.” Wolfe bowed. “How do you do, ladies.” “My husband,” Mom said in a scared but determined voice. “Where's my husband?” “He'll be here soon,” Wolfe assured her. “He was detained. Sit down, madam.” I grinned at him and shook my head. “Much obliged for trying to help, but that's not the line.” I shifted the grin to the family. “I'll have to explain not only to you but to Mr Wolfe too. Have you got the telegram with you? Let me have it a minute?” Mom would have opened her handbag, but Nancylee stopped her. “Don't give it to him!” She snapped at me, “You let us out of here right now!” “No,” I said, “not right now, but I will in about five minutes if you still want to go. What are you afraid of? Didn't I see to it that you got some breakfast?
First I would like to explain to Mr Wolfe, and then I'll explain to you.” I turned to Wolfe. “The telegram Mrs Shepherd has in her bag reads as follows: Take first train to New York and go to office of Nero Wolfe at 918 West Thirty-fifth Street. He is paying for this telegram. Bring Nan with you. Meet me there. Leave your things in your hotel room. Shake a leg. Al. Saul sent it from a telegraph office in the Bronx at six-thirty this morning. You will understand why I had to go up there again to see the janitor. The shake a leg made it absolutely authentic, along with other things.” “Then Father didn't send it!” Nancylee was glaring at me. “I thought there was something funny about it!” She took her mother's arm. “Come on, we're going!” “Where, Nan?” “We're leaving here!” “But where are we going?” Near-panic was in Mom's eyes and voice. “Home?” “That's the point,” I said emphatically. “That's just it. Where? You have three choices. First, you can go home, and when the head of the family comes from work you can tell him how you were taken in by a fake telegram. Your faces show how much that appeals to you. Second, you can take the next train back to Atlantic City, but in that case I phone immediately, before you leave, to Mr Shepherd at the warehouse where he works, and tell him that you're here with a wild tale about a telegram, and of course he'll want to speak to you. So again you would have to tell him about being fooled by a fake telegram.” Mom looked as if she needed some support, so I moved a chair up behind her and she sat.
“You're utterly awful,” Nancylee said. “Just utterly!” I ignored her and continued to her mother. “Or, third, you can stay here and Mr Wolfe will discuss some matters with Nancylee, and ask her some questions. It may take two hours, or three, or four, so the sooner he gets started the better.
You'll get an extra good lunch. As soon as Mr Wolfe is through I'll take you to the station and put you
