'Sure you've got it all right?'
'Yes.'
'Good. As soon as you say that, put the phone down-just put it down, don't ring off-and walk to the foyer, go straight to the outside door, open it and pass through and pull it shut with a bang. Go to the elevator and push the button, and keep your finger pushing the button until the elevator comes. Go downstairs with the elevator man and wait there till I come. Did you get all that?'
'Yes.'
'Will you do it just that way?'
'Yes, I-I will.'
'That's the girl. Don't forget to bang the door, because I'm going to keep the phone to my ear until I hear the door bang, and then I'll start. After I get there you can have a good laugh at me for being so nervous, and then we'll decide what to do next. For one thing, I'm a better dancer than Nat Parker, and it's only two o'clock. Are you listening?'
'Yes.'
'I'm repeating it. When I say, 'Go ahead,' you say, 'I don't think so, but if you'll hold the line I'll go to the foyer and see if it's there.' As soon as you say that, put the phone down, go to the foyer, open the outside door, go out, bang the door shut, ring for the elevator, and keep your finger on the button until it comes. Go downstairs and stick with the night man until I arrive. Wherever he goes, you go. Will you follow instructions?'
'Yes.'
'Are you all set?'
'Yes.'
'Go ahead.'
'I don't think so, but will you hold the line? Uh-hold the line, and I'll go and see if it's in the foyer.'
Good enough, I thought, with no rehearsal. There was a little clatter as she put the phone down. I could hear no footsteps, but the living room had rugs. Figuring that fifteen to twenty seconds ought to do it, and that thirty was the maximum if there were no snags, I started counting as I heard the phone drop. I can count and never be out more than three seconds in five minutes. As I counted I remembered that I had told Wolfe, when he gave Priscilla Eads eleven hours to hide, that it was like run sheep run, but this was more like prisoner's base. The phone in the living room was one base, and the elevator outside was the other, and it was up to Sarah Jaffee to make the run without being tagged. It had been a lot of years since I had played prisoner's base.
That had darted through my mind by the time I had counted ten. From then on the strain of listening kept it empty. If she gave it a healthy bang I would unquestionably hear it. I got to fifteen, to twenty-no bang. Thirty. I had the phone pressed to my ear. Forty, fifty, sixty-a full minute. It couldn't possibly have taken her that long, but I held onto the damn thing, counting automatically-ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six…
I hung up, with my brain humming, but one thing was a cinch-I needed clothes. As I got them on, I considered. If I spent time calling the Nineteenth Precinct, which was nearest to her, I might or might not get a lieutenant who preferred acting to arguing, especially since my one fact was that a woman's keys were missing. There were several possible explanations for my not hearing the door bang, including the chance that she had failed to bang it. Various alternatives to calling the precinct offered themselves, but by the time I was dressed, and that wasn't long, they had all been discarded.
I ran downstairs to the office, got a gun and dropped it in my pocket, fixed the phone to ring on Fritz's and Wolfe's extensions, returned to the hall and descended to the semi-basement, entered Fritz's room, and gave him a shake. He let out a yelp.
'Out on an errand,' I told him. 'I'll be back when you see me.'
He warned me to be careful, as he usually does when I leave the house on business, but I didn't hear it all because I was on my way, out through the area door and up four steps to the sidewalk. I headed east at a trot. At that time of night taxis on Tenth Avenue are none too frequent, and I made for Thirty-fourth Street and finally got one. Tenth Avenue was no good, with its staggered lights, so I had him go east to Park, and up Park. He did all right, as he should have with the finif I gave him in his pocket, and with that avenue as nearly open as it ever gets. When we turned into Eightieth Street, with the tires squeaking, it was 2:23, just twenty-six minutes since I heard her put the phone down. As we rolled to the curb in front of the address, I had the door open and was on the sidewalk before the car stopped. I had told the driver to wait, and had shown him my license to clear the way for some hasty request if I had to make one.
There wasn't a soul in sight. I went to the entrance door and tried it; it was locked. As I rattled it, peering in, a man in uniform appeared from around a corner, approached, touched the glass with his forehead, and looked out at me.
'What do you want?' he called.
'I want in!'
'For what?'
'To see Mrs. Jaffee. I'm expected.'
'At this time of night? Nuts. What's your name?'
It was hopeless. This one had never seen me; he had not been on duty when I came Wednesday morning. He was obviously an underbrained dope. It would take minutes to explain, and he wouldn't believe me. If I persuaded him to ring her on the house phone and there was no answer, he would probably say she was asleep. I took the gun from my pocket, let him see what it was, knocked a hole in the glass with it, reached through and opened the door, and entered. As I did so I heard the engine of the taxi roaring, and a glance over my shoulder showed it starting off. That boy had fast reflexes.
I was pointing the gun at the dope, and he was standing with his arms straight up as far as he could reach. There wasn't a chance in a million that he was accoutered, but I gave him a few quick pats to make sure. 'Have you seen Mrs. Jaffee in the last half-hour? Or heard her? Talk fast. Have you?'
