was faint, but I recognized it. I got erect and went out to the head of the stain and sniffed; no doubt about it. I went down three flights to the kitchen and there he was, eating breakfast in his shirt sleeves. Eggs au beurre noir. He was playing house.
He said good morning. Tell me twenty minutes before you're ready.
Sure. Wine vinegar, I presume?
He nodded. Not very good, but it will do.
I went back up.
An hour and a half later, after eating breakfast and cleaning up, I found him in the big room on the second floor, in a big chair he had pulled over to a window, reading a book. I was still determined not to poke. I asked politely, Shall I go out and get papers?
As you please. If you think it safe.
He wasn't playing house, he was camping out. You don't care about newspapers when you're camping out.
Perhaps I should ring Mrs. Valdon and tell her where we are.
'That might be advisable, yes.
My valve popped open. Listen, sir. There are times when you can afford to be eccentric and times when you can't. Maybe you can afford it even now, but not me. I quit.
He lowered the book slowly. It's a summer Sunday, Archie. Where are people? Specifically, where is Mr. Upton? We are boxed up here. Will you undertake, using the telephone, to find Mr. Upton and persuade him to come here to talk with me? Supposing you could, would it be prudent?
No. But that's not the only line that's open. Who squawked to the cops? I might get that on the phone. That would make one less to work on.
There isn't time for that approach. We can't shave, we can't change our shirts or socks or underwear. When you go for papers get toothbrushes. I must see Mr. Upton. I have been considering Mrs. Valdon. When you phone her ask her to come this evening, after dark, alone. Will she come?
Yes.
Another detail I've considered. There's no hurry, but since you're fuming can you get Saul?
Yes. His answering service.
Here tomorrow morning. I am considering Ellen Tenzer's niece. Anne?
Yes.
If I properly understood her mйtier, she replaces office workers temporarily absent?
Right. My brows went up. I'll be damned. Of course. It's certainly possible. I should have thought of it myself.
You were too busy fuming. Speaking of fuming, the sturgeon is quite good, and I would like to try it fumй а la Muscovite. When you go for papers could you get some fennel, bay leaf, chives, parsley, shallots, and tomato paste?
At a delicatessen Sunday morning? No.
A pity. Get any herbs they have.
A licensed private detective, and he didn't even know what you can expect to find in a delicatessen.
So the Sunday passed pleasantly newspapers, books, television, all anyone could ask for. The sturgeon was fine, even with replacements for herbs temporarily absent. When I phoned Lucy and told her she had house guests and she was invited to come and spend the night with us, her first thought was sheets. Had there been any on the beds? Told that there had been, she was so relieved that our being fugitives from the law didn't really matter. Around nine o'clock Saul called, having got the message from the answering service, and I told him where to come in the morning. He had rung the office Saturday evening and again Sunday morning, having heard what had happened to Carol Mardus, and when Fritz had told him we weren't there and that was all he knew he had of course been a little fumй, knowing, as he did, that no limb was too long and narrow for Wolfe to crawl out on if he got peeved enough.
Not knowing if Lucy had another key, I stayed in the kitchen with a couple of magazines after supper, ready to answer the doorbell, but a little after ten o'clock I heard the door open and close and went to the hall to greet her. Needing two hands, or arms, for a satisfactory greeting between detective and client, she let her bag drop to the floor. That accomplished, I picked up the bag.
I know why you're down here, she said. She looked very wholesome in a pale green summer dress and a dark green jacket. A well-tanned skin with a flush is more striking in town than at the beach. She took the bag. You thought I might not be discreet. You are conceited, but I like you anyway. Did you mean what you said on the phone? You and Nero Wolfe are actually hiding?
I explained enough of the situation for her to get the idea, including what Krug and Bingham bad said about Dick being the father of the baby. So, I said, the job you hired Mr. Wolfe for is done. All that's left now is a couple of murders, and if you want to get us out of your house just pick up the phone. The DA would be, glad to send a car for us. It's been nice to know you. If I'm conceited you've helped it along. But first Mr. Wolfe would like to ask you something.
Tell me the truth, Archie. Do you really think I might?
Certainly. You don't owe him anything. As for me, I'm not that conceited. I'm not actually conceited at all. I merely think it's common sense to like myself.
She smiled. Where is he?
