Were they mailed in New York? The city?
Yes, sir.
Then you have the envelopes?
Yes, sir.
May we see them just the envelopes? You say the writing is disguised, but it might one of us might get a hint from it.
Wolfs nodded. Therefore it would be ill-advised to show them to you. One of you might indeed get a hint of the identity of the writer but not divulge it, and that might complicate the problem for me.
I have a question, Manuel Upton croaked. I've heard that there's a baby in Mrs. Valdon's house, and a nurse for it. I know nothing about it, but the person who told me isn't a windbag. Is there any connection between the baby and the letters?
Wolfe was frowning at him. A baby? Mrs. Valdon's baby?
I didn't say her baby. I said there's a baby in her house.
Indeed. I'll ask her, Mr. Upton. If it is somehow connected with the letters she must be aware of it. By the way, I have advised her to mention the letters to no one. No exceptions. As you gentlemen know, she didn't mention them to you. The matter is in my hands.
All right, handle it. Upton got to his feet. His weight was just about half of Wolfe's, but from the effort it took to get it up from a chair it might have been the other way around. From the way you're handling us, or trying to, you'll hash it up. I don't owe Lucy Valdon anything. If she wants a favor from me she can ask me.
He headed for the door, jostling Leo Bingham's elbow as he passed, and Bingham's other hand darted out and gave him a shove. Because a guest is a guest, and also because I doubted if he had the vim and vigor to shut the door, I got up and went, passed him in the hall, and saw him out. When I returned to the office Julian Haft was speaking.
… but before I do so I want to speak with Mrs. Valdon. I don't agree with Mr. Upton, I don't say you're handling it badly, but what you ask is rather uh unusual. He put the cheaters back on and turned. Of course I agree with you, Willie, about people who send anonymous letters. I suppose you think I'm being overcautious.
That's your privilege, Krug said.
To hell with privilege, Bingham said. He flashed the big smile at Haft. I wouldn't say overcautious, I'd say cagey. You were born scared, Julian.
You have to make allowances. Buyers and sellers. To a literary agent a publisher is a customer, but to a television producer he's just another peddler. I have before me a copy of the expense account of the case in the files under V for Valdon. Its second stage, working on the names on the lists furnished by Willis Krug, Leo Bingham, Julian Haft, and the client (we never got one from Manuel Upton) lasted twenty-six days, from June 12 to July 7, and cost the client $8,674.30, not including any part of my salary, which is covered by the fee and is never itemized.
Lucy's list had 47 names, Haft's 81, Bingham's 106, and Krug's 55. One of Upton's daughters, married, was on Haft's and Bingham's lists, but not on Krug's. Haft's married daughter was on Lucy's list but none of the others. A certain friend of Bingham's was on nobody's list; Orrie picked up her name along the way. Of course there were many duplications on the four lists, but there were 148 different names, as follows:
Section Number Status A 57 Single B 52 Married, living with husbands C 18 Divorced D 11 Widowed E 10 Married, separated. Another statistic, those in each section who had babies between December 1, 1961, and February 28, 1962:
Section Number
A 1
B 2
C 0
D 1
E 0.
The one in Section A (single) who had a baby worked in Krug's office, but everybody knew about it and the baby had been legally given (or sold) to an adoption service. It took Saul nearly two weeks to cinch it that the baby had not got sidetracked somehow and ended up in Mrs. Valdon's vestibule. The one in Section D (widowed) may have been a problem for her friends and enemies, but not for us. Her husband had died two years before the baby came, but she was keeping it and didn't care who knew it. I saw it.
The two babies in Section B (married, living with husbands) were really three; one was twins. They
