afternoon, and Miss Aaron answered, and you spoke with her, you got here as quickly as possible. Since you were not then contemplating murder, there was no reason for you to use caution. I don't know if you have a car and chauf- feur, but even if you have, to send for it would have meant delay, and minutes were precious. There is no crosstown subway. Buses, one downtown and one crosstown, would have been far too slow. Unquestion- ably you took a cab. In spite of the traffic that would have been much faster than walking. The doorman at the Churchill probably summoned one for you, but even if he didn't, it will be a simple matter to find it. I need only telephone Mr. Cramer, the police inspector who was here this afternoon, and suggest that he locate the cab driver who picked you up at or near the Churchill yesterday afternoon and drove you to this address. In fact, that is what I intend to do, and that will be enough.'
Ann Paige stood up. She was in a fix. She wanted to go to Gregory Jett, where her eyes already were, but she didn't want to leave Lamont Otis, who was slumped in his chair, his head sagging and his eyes shut. Luckily Jett saw her difficulty and went to her and put an arm around her. It scored a point for romance that he could have a thought for personal matters at the very mo- ment his firm was getting a clout on the jaw.
WOLFE: 'I shall also suggest that he send a man here to take you in hand until the cab driver is found. If you ask why I don't proceed to do this, why I first announce it to you, I confess a weakness. I am savoring a satis- faction. I am getting even with you. Twenty-five hours ago, in this room, you subjected me to the severest humiliation I have suffered for many years. I will not say it gives me pleasure, but I confess it-'
There was a combination of sounds from the speaker:
a kind of cry or squeal, presumably from Mrs. Sorell, a sort of scrape or flutter, and what might have been a grunt from Wolfe. I dived for the connecting door and went with it as I swung it open, and kept going, but two paces short ofWolfe's desk I halted to take in a sight I had never seen before and never expect to see again:
Nero Wolfe with his arms tight around a beautiful young woman in his lap, pinning her arms, hugging her close to him. I stood paralyzed.
'Archie!' he roared. 'Confound it, get her!'
I obeyed.
Chapter 9
I would like to be able to report that Wolfe got somewhere with his effort to minimize the damage to the firm, but I have to be candid and accurate. He tried but there wasn't much he could do, since Heydecker was the chief witness for the prosecution at the trial and was cross-examined for six hours. Of course that finished him professionally. Wolfe had bet- ter luck with another effort; the DA finally conceded that I was competent to identify Exhibit C, a brown silk necktie with little yellow curlicues, and Wolfe wasn't
68 Rex Stout
called. Evidently the jury agreed with him, since it only took them five hours to bring in a verdict of guilty.
At that, the firm is still doing business at the old stand, and Lament Otis still comes to the office five days a week, and I hear that since Gregory Jett's mar- riage to Ann Paige he has quit being careless about the balance between income and outgo. I don't know if his eleven-percent cut has been boosted. That's a confiden- tial matter.
DEATH OF A DEMON
Chapter 1
The red leather chair was four feet away from the end of Nero Wolfe's desk, so when she got the gun from her handbag she had to get up and take a step to put it on the desk. Then she returned to the chair, closed the bag, and told Wolfe, 'That's the gun I'm not going to shoot my husband with.'
Sitting facing her with my back to my desk, which was at right angles to Wolfe's, I raised my brows. I hadn't expected her to put on an act. When she had phoned the previous afternoon to ask for an appoint- ment she had of course sounded a little jumpy, as most people do when they call the office of a private detec- tive, but she had been quite matter-of-fact in giving the details. Her name was Lucy Hazen, Mrs. Barry Hazen. She gave her address, on East 37th Street between Park and Lexington. All she wanted was thirty minutes with Nero Wolfe, to tell him something confidential. She didn't want him to do anything, not even give her advice; she merely wanted to tell him something; and she would pay one hundred dollars for the half-hour. She could and would pay more if she had to, but she hoped the hundred would be enough. In November or December, when Wolfe's income has reached a point where out of a hundred received he can keep only twenty bucks, he will make an appointment only for someone or something very special, but this was January, no big fee was in prospect, and even a measly C would help in the upkeep of his old brown- stone on West 35th Street, including staff, particularly since he wouldn't have to work for it. So it was set for 11:30 the following morning, Tuesday.
When the doorbell rang at 11:30 on the dot and I went to let her in, she gave me a smile and said, 'Thank you for getting him to see me.' Handshakes can be faked and usually are, but smiles can't. It isn't often that a man gets a natural, friendly, straightforward smile from a young woman who has never seen him before, with no come-on, no catch, and no dare, and the least he can do is return it if he has that kind in stock. As I took her to
