Apparently Mrs. Miller had no off days, for the fricassee with dumplings was as good as the memory of it, and, thinking it might be my last ap- pearance among the devout, I permitted myself to run the meal in two sections, as did Wolfe. He, as always in the com- pany of good food, was sociable and expansive. Discovering that Lily had been in Egypt, he told about his house in Cairo, and they chatted away like a pair of camels, going on to Arabia and making quite a trip of it. She let him do most of the talking but made him chuckle a couple of times, and I began to suspect she wasn't very obvious and might even be smooth.
As I put down my empty coffee cup Wolfe said, 'Still no Bennett. It's 1:30. Is it far to the cattle sheds?'
I told him not very.
'Then if you will please find out about him. Confound it, I must see him. If he can't come at once, tell him I'll be here until 3 o'clock, and after that at the exhibit.'
'Right.'
I got up. Lily arose too, saying that she was supposed to be with Mr. Pratt and Caroline and they were probably look- ing for her. She left the tent with me, whereupon I informed her that it was now working hours and I would be moving through the throngs too energetically for pleasant companion- ship. She stated that up to date she had failed to detect any taint of pleasantness in my make-up and would see me at 5 o'clock, and departed in the direction of the grandstand. My errand was the other way.
They were going strong at the judging lot. I was pleased to note that Guernseys were evidently a more popular breed than Belted Swiss or Ayrshires, as the crowd was much larger than it had been 2 hours earlier. Bennett was within the en- closure, along with judges, scorekeepers and cattle with at- tendants. For a second my heart stopped, as I caught sight of a bull I would have sworn was Hickory Caesar Grindon; then I saw he was a lighter shade of tan and had a much smaller white spot on his face. I maneuvered around to the other side where the crowd wasn't so thick, and stood there, and when I felt a pull at my sleeve I thought for an instant that Lily Rowan had tailed me.
But it was Dave, dressed up in coat and pants and shirt and tie, and a shiny straw hat. He cackled: 'Didn't I say you like to be around where things is goin' on? First I seen you. Was you here when them derned fools put down Bella Grassleigh for that Silverville cow? Her with a barrel more like a deer than any good milker I ever saw.'
'Good God,' I said, 'that's the worst I ever heard. I just got here. I don't suppose… well, I'll be derned. There's our friend Monte McMillan.'
'Yep, I drove him in this morning.' Dave shook his head.
'Poor old Monte, got to start practically all over again. He's got it in mind to do some buyin' if prices is right, to build up another foundation. You wouldn't have thought a year ago…'
I missed the rest because I was diving under the rope. Bennett was momentarily disengaged, standing mopping his forehead, and I made for him. He blinked at me in the sun- light and said he was sorry, he hadn't been able to make it. I told him okay, that was forgiven, but couldn't he come to the Methodist tent right now. Impossible, he said, they were judging Produce of Dam and Breeders' Young Herd simul- taneously. There was nothing he could tell Nero Wolfe any- way. And I didn't belong there in the enclosure-
I got a little peremptory: 'Wolfe's working on a murder, and he says he needs to see you and can't make another move until he does. Are you primarily a citizen and a friend of Fred Osgood's, or a sergeant at arms in a cattle tribunal? If you think justice among the cows is more important…'
He said he wasn't a particular friend of Osgood's, who as far as he was concerned was merely a member of the League, and that he would be at the Methodist tent no, fooling, within half an hour.
I got outside the ropes again, but instead of beating it I de- cided to hang around and wait for him. I watched the judging for a few minutes, but couldn't see very well on account of the mob, and so wandered along in front of the sheds. There was no one around at all, the judging being the current at- traction, so naturally I observed the moving object that caught my eyes, especially since the first sight showed me that the object was familiar. It was Nancy Osgood, and the glance she cast behind her as she entered one of the sheds was either furtive or I was getting fanciful. Even if she was furtive it was none of my business, but a detective who minds his own business would be a contradiction in terms, so I slid over to the shed and inserted myself through the door.
She wasn't within view. There were plenty of cows, black and white this time, and a few visitors further down the aisle, but no Nancy. I strolled along between the rows of hind ends. Toward the middle of the shed there was a partitioned com- partment on the left, containing no cow; but an instant's peep disclosed that it contained three other things: a large pile of straw with a pitchfork handle protruding from its center, Nancy Osgood, and Jimmy Pratt. I would have passed on, but I had been seen. Jimmy's voice was gruff and discourte- ous:
'Well?'
I shrugged. 'Well enough. Hoping you are the same.' I started to move on, but his voice came even gruffer:
'Wait and look and listen. The more you see and hear the more you can tell.'
'Don't, Jimmy.' Nancy sounded very distressed. She turned her eyes, more bloodshot than ever, in my direction: 'Were you following me, Mr. Goodwin? What for?'
A couple of passers-by seemed disposed to.linger, so I stepped inside the stall to keep it in the family. 'Yes,' I told her, 'I was. For about 40 seconds. I happened to see you enter this shed looking behind you for bloodhounds, and fol- lowed you out of curiosity.' I surveyed young Pratt. 'It's a good thing you're training for architecture instead of the diplomatic service. You lack suavity. If this is a clandestine rendezvous and you suspected I might report it, it might be better to rub me with salve than sandpaper.'
He reached for his pocket. 'Oh, in that case-'
I let him go on. His hand emerged with a modest roll, from which, with unsteady fingers, he peeled a ten. He thrust it at me with an objectionable smile and asked, 'Will that do?'
'Swell.' I took it. 'Munificent.' My first impulse was to stick it in the pocket of Nancy's jacket and tell her to buy stocking with it, but at that moment our party was joined by a lanky guy in overalls carrying a pitchfork. With only a glance at us he rammed the fork into the pile of straw and started to lift the load. I stopped him by shoving the $10 bill under his nose.
