She not only had the drink, she made herself at home. After Fritz had brought it and she had taken a couple of sips, she murmured something about its being warm and removed the jacket and dropped it on the seat of the red leather chair. Furthermore, she took off the straw thing she had on her head, fingered her hair back, and got a mirror from her bag and gave herself a brief look. Then, with her glass in her hand, and sipping intermittently, she moved to my desk for a glance at the germination cards, crossed to the big globe and gave it a gentle spin, and went to the shelves and looked at titles of books. When her glass was empty she put it on a table, went to her chair and sat, and gave me the eyes.
'I'm beginning to get myself together,' she told me.
'Good. Don't rush it.'
'I won't. I'm not a rusher. I'm a very cautious girl-believe me, I am. I never rushed but one thing in my life, and that one was enough. I'm not sure I'm over it yet. I think maybe I should have another drink.'
I decided against it. I couldn't deny that the effect Coke and rum had on her was pleasant; it tuned her up and emphasized her charms, which were fair enough without the emphasis. But this was office hours, and I wanted to find out if she had any potential as a client. So I decided to dodge the drink problem with a polite suggestion, but before I had it framed she demanded, 'Does the door of the south room on the third floor have a bolt on the inside?'
I frowned at her. I was beginning to suspect she was something we couldn't use, like for instance a female writer getting material for a magazine piece on a famous detective's home, but even so she was not the kind to be led out by the ear and rolled off the stoop down the steps to the sidewalk. There was no good reason, considering the eyes, why she shouldn't be humored up to a point.
'No,' I said. 'Why, do you think it needs one?'
'Maybe not,' she conceded, 'but I thought I'd feel better if it had. You see, that's where I want to sleep.'
'Oh? You do? For about how long?'
'For a week. Possibly a day or two more, but certainly for a week. I would rather have the south room than the one on the second floor because it has its own bath. I know how Nero Wolfe feels about women, so I knew I'd have to see you first.'
'That was sensible,' I agreed. 'I like gags, and I'll bet this is a pip. How does it go?'
'It is not a gag.' She wasn't heated, but she was earnest. 'For a certain reason I had to be-I had to go away. I had to go somewhere and stay there until June thirtieth-some place where no one would know and no one could possibly find me. I didn't think a hotel would do, and I didn't think-anyhow, I thought it over and decided the best place would be Nero Wolfe's house. Nobody knows I came; nobody followed me here, I'm sure of that.'
She got up and went to the red leather chair for her bag, which she had left there with her jacket. Back in her seat, she opened the bag and took out a purse and let me have the eyes again. 'One thing you can tell me,' she said, as if I not only could but naturally would, '-about paying. I know how he charges just for wiggling his finger. Would it be better for me to offer to pay him or to go ahead and pay you now? Would fifty dollars a day be enough? Whatever you say. I'll give you cash instead of a check, because that way he won't have to pay income tax on it, and also because a check would have my name on it, and I don't want you to know my name. I'll give it to you now if you'll tell me how much.'
'That won't do,' I objected. 'Hotels and rooming houses have to know names. We can make one up for you. How would Lizzie Borden do?'
She reacted to that crack as she had to the Coke and rum-she flushed a little. 'You think it's funny?' she inquired.
I was firm. 'So far,' I declared, 'the overall effect is comical. You aren't going to tell us your name?'
'No.'
'Or where you live? Anything at all?'
'No.'
'Have you committed a crime or been accessory to one? Are you a fugitive from justice?'
'No.'
'Prove it.'
'That's silly! I don't have to prove it!'
'You do if you expect to get bed and board here. We're particular. Altogether four murderers have slept in the south room-the last one was a Mrs. Floyd Whitten, some three years ago. And I am personally interested, since that room is on the same floor as mine.' I shook my head regretfully. 'Under the circumstances, there's no point in continuing the chinning, which is a pity, since I have nothing special to do and you are by no means a scarecrow, but unless you see fit to open up-'
I stopped short because it suddenly struck me that in any case I could do better than shoo her out. Even if she couldn't be cast as a client, I could still use her.
I looked at her. 'I don't know,' I said doubtfully. 'Tell me your name.'
'No,' she said positively.
'Why not?'
'Because-what good would it do unless you checked on it? How would you know it was my real name? And I don't want you checking on it. I don't want anyone to have the faintest idea where I am for a week- until June thirtieth.'
'What happens on June thirtieth?'
