yawning when I heard a noise overhead that woke me up good. Either that was two pairs of footsteps and I knew both of them or I was still dreaming. I went out in the hail and listened a minute and then ran downstairs. Fritz was in the kitchen drinking coffee. 'Is that Mr. Wolfe up with Horstmann?'
'And how.' That was the only slang Fritz ever used and he always welcomed a chance to get it in. He smiled at me, glad to see me excited and happy. 'Now I will just get a leg of lamb and rub garlic on it.'
'Rub poison ivy on it if you want to.' I went back up to dress.
The relapse was over! I was excited all right. I shaved extra clean and whistled in the bathtub. With Wolfe normal again anything might happen. When I got back down to the kitchen a dish of figs and a fat omelet were ready for me, and the newspaper was propped up against the coffeepot. I started on the headlines and the figs at the same time, but halfway through a fig I stopped chewing. I raced down the paragraphs, swallowing the mouthful whole to get it out of the way. It was plain, the paper stated it as a fact. Although no confirmation was needed, I turned the pages over, running my eyes up and down and across. It was on page eight toward the bottom, a neat little ad in a neat little box:
I WILL PAY FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS REWARD
TO ANY PERSON OR PERSONS WHO WILL FURNISH
INFORMATION RESULTING IN THE DISCOVERY AND
RIGHTEOUS PUNISHMENT OF THE MURDERER OF MY
HUSBAND PETER OLIVER BARSTOW.
ELLEN BARSTOW
I read it through three times and then tossed the paper away and got calm. I finished the fruit and omelet, with three pieces of toast and three cups of coffee. Fifty grand, with the Wolfe bank balance sagging like a clothesline under a wet horse blanket; and not only that, but a chance of keeping our places on the platform in the biggest show of the season. I was calm and cool, but it was only twenty minutes after ten. I went to the office and opened the safe and dusted around and waited.
When Wolfe came down at eleven he looked fresh but not noticeably good-humored. He only nodded for good morning and didn’t seem to care much whether I was there or not as he got himself into his chair and started looking through the mail. I just waited, thinking I would show him that other people could be as hard-boiled as he was, but when he began checking off the monthly bill from Harvey’s I popped at him: 'I hope you had a nice weekend, sir.'
He didn’t look at me, but I saw his cheeks folding. 'Thank you, Archie. It was delightful; but on awakening this morning I felt so completely water-logged that with only myself to consider I would have remained in bed to await disintegration. Names battered at me: Archie Goodwin, Fritz Brenner, Theodore Horstmann; responsibilities; and I arose to resume my burden. Not that I complain; the responsibilities are mutual; but my share can be done only by me.'
'Excuse me, sir, but you’re a damn liar, what you did was look at the paper.'
He checked off items on the bill. 'You can’t rile me, Archie, not today. Paper? I have looked at nothing this morning except life, and that not through a newspaper.'
'Then you don’t know that Mrs. Barstow has offered fifty thousand dollars for her husband’s murderer?'
The pencil stopped checking; he didn’t look at me, but the pencil was motionless in his fingers for seconds. Then he placed the bill under a paperweight, laid the pencil beside it, and lifted his head.
'Show it to me.'
I exhibited first the ad and then the first page article. Of the ad he read each word; the article he glanced through.
'Indeed,' he said. 'Indeed. Mr. Anderson does not need the money, even granting the possibility of his earning it, and only a moment ago I was speaking of responsibilities. Archie, do you know what I thought in bed this morning? I thought how horrible and how amusing it would be to send Theodore away and let all those living and breathing plants, all that arrogant and pampered loveliness, thirst and gasp and wither away.'
'Good God!'
'Yes. Just an early morning fantasy; I haven’t the will for such a gesture. I would be more likely to offer them at auction-should I decide to withdraw from responsibilities-and take passage for Egypt. You know of course that I own a house in Egypt which I have never seen. The man who gave it to me, a little more than ten years ago-yes, Fritz, what is it?'
Fritz was a little awry, having put on his jacket hurriedly to go to the door.
'A lady to see you, sir.'
'Her name?'
'She had no card, sir.'
Wolfe nodded, and Fritz went out. In a moment he was back on the threshold, bowing in a young woman.
I was on my feet. She started toward me, and I inclined my head in Wolfe’s direction. She looked at him, stopped, and said: 'Mr. Nero Wolfe? My name is Sarah Barstow.'
'Be seated,' Wolfe said. 'You must pardon me; for engineering reasons I arise only for emergencies.
'This is an emergency,' she said.
CHAPTER 7
