by Rex Stout
“Don’t type a note on that, Archie. Any that you do type, put them in the safe at once. Leave Orrie on with me and be sure the other line is open. A call I am expecting hasn’t come. When Keems calls I’ll talk to him, but I’ll give Orrie Fred’s assignment.”
Taking the hint that he didn’t want to burden my ears with Orrie’s schedule, I hung up. I filed some notes in the safe and loaded Wolfe’s pen and tested it, a chore that I hadn’t been able to get around to before—absentmindedly, because I was off on a new track. I had no idea what had started Wolfe in that direction. It had beautiful possibilities, no doubt of that, but a 100 to 1 shot in a big handicap is a beautiful possibility too, and how often would you collect on it? After taxing the brain a few minutes, this looked more like a million to one. I would probably have gone on to add more ciphers to that if I hadn’t been interrupted by the doorbell. Of course I was still on that job too. I went to the hall and pulled the curtain to see through the glass panel, and got a surprise. It was the first time Wolfe’s house had ever been taken for a church, but there wasn’t any other explanation, for either that specimen on the stoop was scheduled for best man at a wedding or Emily Post had been fooling me for years.
The two dicks were down on the sidewalk, looking up at the best man as if it was too much of a problem for them. They had nothing on me. I opened the door and let it come three inches, leaving the chain on, and said in a well bred tone:
“Good morning.”
He peered through at me. “I say, that crack is scarcely adequate. Really.” He had a well trained voice but a little squawky.
“I’m sorry. This is a bad neighborhood and we have to be careful. What can I do for you?”
He went on peering. “Is this the house of Mr. Nero Wolfe?”
“It is.”
He hesitated, and turned to look down at the snoops on the sidewalk, who were staring up at him in the worst possible taste. Then he came closer and pushed his face up against the crack and said in a tone nearly down to a whisper:
“From Lord Clivers. I wish to see Mr. Wolfe.”
I took a second for consideration and then slid the bolt off and opened up. He walked in and I shut the door and shot the bolt again. When I turned he was standing there with his stick hung over his elbow, pulling his gloves off. He was six feet, spare but not skinny, about my age, fair-skinned with chilly blue eyes, and there was no question about his being dressed for it. I waved him ahead and followed him into the office, and he took his time getting his paraphernalia deposited on Wolfe’s desk before he lowered himself into a chair. Meantime I let him know that Mr. Wolfe was engaged and would be until eleven o’clock, and that I was the confidential assistant and was at his service. He got seated and looked at me as if he would have to get around to admitting my right to exist before we could hope to make any headway.
But he spoke. “Mr. Goodwin? I see. Perhaps I got a bit ahead at the door. That is … I really should see Mr. Wolfe without delay.”
I grinned at him. “You mean because you mentioned the Marquis of Clivers? That’s okay. I wrote that letter. I know all about it. You can’t see Mr. Wolfe before eleven. I can let him know you’re here …”
“If you will be so good. Do that. My name is Horrocks—Francis Horrocks.”
I looked at him. So this was the geezer that bought roses with three-foot stems. I turned on the swivel and plugged in the plant rooms and pressed the button. In a minute Wolfe was on and I told him:
“A man here to see you, Mr. Francis Horrocks. From the Marquis of Clivers.… Yeah, in the office.… Haven’t asked him.… I told him, sure.… Okay.”
I jerked the plugs and swivelled again. “Mr. Wolfe says he can see you at eleven o’clock, unless you’d care to try me. He suggests the latter.”
“I should have liked to see Mr. Wolfe.” The blue eyes were going over me. “Though I merely bring a message. First, though, I should … er … perhaps explain … I am here in a dual capacity. It’s a bit confusing, but really quite all right. I am here, as it were, personally … and also semi-officially. Possibly I should first deliver my message from Lord Clivers.”
“Okay. Shoot.”
“I beg your pardon? Oh, quite. Lord Clivers would like to know if Mr. Wolfe could call at his hotel. An hour can be arranged—”
“I can save you breath on that. Mr. Wolfe never calls on anybody.”
“No?” His brows went up. “He is not … that is, bedridden?”
“Nope, only house-ridden. He doesn’t like it outdoors. He never has called on anybody and never will.”
“You don’t say.” His forehead showed wrinkles. “Well. Lord Clivers wishes very much to see him. You say you wrote that letter?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I know all about it. I suppose Mr. Wolfe would be glad to talk with the marquis on the telephone—”
“He prefers not to discuss it on the telephone.”
“Okay. I was going to add, or the marquis can come here. Of course the legal part of it is being handled by our attorney.”
The young diplomat sat straight with his arms folded and looked at me. “You have engaged a solicitor?”
“Certainly. If it comes to a lawsuit, which we hope it won’t, we don’t want to waste any time. We understand the marquis will be in New York another week, so we’d have to be ready to serve him at once.”
He nodded. “Just so. That’s a bit candid.” He bit his lip and cocked his head a little. “We appear to have reached a dead end. Your position seems quite clear. I shall report it, that’s all I can do.” He hitched his feet back and cleared his throat. “Now, if you don’t mind, I assume my private capacity. I remarked that I am here personally. My name is Francis Horrocks.”
“Yeah. Your personal name.”
“Just so. And I would like to speak with Miss Fox. Miss Clara Fox.”
I felt myself straightening out my face and hoped he didn’t see me. I said, “I can’t say I blame you. I’ve met Miss Fox. Go to it.”
He frowned. “If you would be so good as to tell her I am here. It’s quite all right. I know she’s having a spot of seclusion, but it’s quite all right. Really. You see, when she telephoned me this morning I insisted on knowing the address of her retreat. In fact, I pressed her on it. I confess she laid it on me not to come here to see her, but I made no commitment. Also, I didn’t come to see her; I came semi-officially. What? Being here, I ask to see her, which is quite all right. What?”
My face was under control after the first shock. I said, “Sure it’s quite all right. I mean, to ask. Seeing her is something else. You must have got the address wrong or maybe you were phoning in your sleep.”
“Oh, no. Really.” He folded his arms again. “See here, Mr. Goodwin, let’s cut across. It’s a fact, I actually must see Miss Fox. As a friend, you understand. For purely personal reasons. I’m quite determined about this.”
“Okay. Find her. She left no address here.”
He shook his head patiently. “It won’t do, I assure you it won’t. She telephoned me. Is she in distress? I don’t know. I shall have to see her. If you will tell her—”
I stood up. “Sorry, Mr. Horrocks. Do you really have to go? I hope you find Miss Fox. Tell the Marquis of Clivers—”
He sat tight, shook his head again, and frowned. “Damn it all. I dislike this, really. I’ve never set eyes on you before. What? I’ve never seen this Mr. Wolfe. Could Miss Fox have been under duress when she was telephoning? You see the possibility, of course. Setting my mind at rest and all that. If you put me out, it will really be necessary for me to tell those policemen outside that Miss Fox telephoned me from this address at nine o’clock this morning. Also I should have to take the precaution of finding a telephone at once to repeat the information to your police headquarters. What?”
I stared down at him, and I admit he was too much for me. Whether he was deep and desperate or dumb and determined I didn’t know. I said:
“Wait here. Mr. Wolfe will have to know about
you. Kindly stay in this room.”
I left him there and went to the kitchen and told Fritz to stand in the hall, and if an Englishman emerged from the office, yodel. Then I bounced up two flights to the south room, called not too loud, and when I heard the key turn, opened the door and entered. Clara Fox stood and brushed her hair back and looked at me half alarmed and half hopeful.
I said, “What time this morning did you phone that guy Francis Horrocks?”
She stared. It got her. She swallowed. “But I … he … he promised …”
“So you did phone him. Swell. You forgot to mention it when I asked you about it a while ago.”
“But you didn’t ask me if I had phoned?”
“Oh, didn’t I? Now that was careless.” I threw up my hands. “To hell with it. Suppose you tell me what you phoned him about. I hope it wasn’t a secret.”
“No, it wasn’t.” She came a step to me. “Must you be so sarcastic? There was nothing … it was just personal.”
“As for instance?”
“Why, it was really nothing. Of course, he sent those roses. Then … I had had an engagement to dine with him Monday evening, and when I made the appointment with Mr. Wolfe I had to cancel the one with Mr. Horrocks, and when he insisted I thought that three hours would be enough with Mr. Wolfe, so I told Mr. Horrocks I would go with him at ten o’clock to dance somewhere, and probably he went to the apartment and waited around there I don’t know how long, and this morning I supposed he would keep phoning there and of course there would be no answer, and he couldn’t get me at the office either, and besides, I hadn’t thanked him for the roses …”
I put up a palm. “Take a breath. I see, romance. It’d be still more romantic if he came to visit you in jail. You’re quite an adventuress, being as you are over 90% nincompoop. I don’t suppose you know that according to an article in yesterday’s Times this Horrocks is the nephew of the Marquis of Clivers and next in line for the title.”
“Oh yes. He explained to me … that is … that’s all right. I knew that. And Mr. Goodwin, I don’t like—”
“We’ll discuss your likes later. Here’s something you don’t know. Horrocks is downstairs in the office saying that he’s got to see you or he’ll run and get the police.”
“What! He isn’t.”
“Yep. Somebody is, and from his looks I’m willing to admit it’s Horrocks.”
“But he shouldn’t … he promised … send him away!”
“He won’t go away. If I throw him out he’ll yell for a cop. He thinks you’re here under duress and need to be rescued—that’s his story. You’re a swell client, you are. With the chances Nero Wolfe’s taking for you—all right. Anyhow, whether he’s straight or not, there’s no way out of it now. I’m going to bring him up here, and for God’s sake make it snappy and let him go back to his uncle.”
“But I … good heavens!” She brushed her hair back. “I don’t want to see him. Not now. Tell him … of course I could … yes, that’s it … I’ll go down and just tell him—”
“You will not. Next you’ll be wanting to go and walk around the block with him. You stay here.”
Outside in the hall I hesitated, uncertain whether to go up and tell Wolfe of the party we were having, but decided there was no point in riling him. I went back down, tossing Fritz a nod as I passed by, and found the young diplomat sitting in the office with his arms still folded. He put his brows up at me. I told him to come on, and let him go first. Behind him on the stairs I noticed he had good springs in his legs, and at the top his air-pump hadn’t speeded up any. Keeping fit for dear old England and the bloody empire. I opened the door and bowed him in and followed him.
Clara Fox came across to him. He looked at her with a kind of sickening grin and put out his hand. She shook her head:
“No. I won’t shake hands with you. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? You promised me you wouldn’t. Causing Mr. Goodwin all this trouble …”
“Now, really. I say.” His voice was different from what it had been downstairs, sort of sweet and concentrated. Silly as hell. “After all, you know, it was fairly alarming … with you gone and all that … couldn’t find a trace of you … and you look frightful, very bad in the eyes …”
“Thank you very much.” All of a sudden she began to laugh. I hadn’t heard her laugh before. It showed her teeth and put color in her cheeks. She laughed at him until if I had been him I’d have thought up some kind of a remark. Then she stuck out her hand. “All right, shake. Mr. Goodwin says you were going to rescue me. I warned you to let American girls alone—you see the sort of thing it leads to?”
With his big paw he was hanging onto her hand as if he had a lease on it. He was staring at her. “You know, they do, though. I mean the eyes. You’re really quite all right? You couldn’t expect me—”
I butted in because I had to. I had left the door open and the sound of the front doorbell came up plain. I glanced at Francis Horrocks and decided that if he really was a come-on I would at least have the pleasure of seeing how long he looked lying down, before he got out of that house, and I got brusque to Clara Fox:
“Hold it. The doorbell. I’m going to shut this door and go down to answer it, and it would be a good idea to make no sounds until I get back.” The bell started ringing again. “Okay?”
Clara Fox nodded.
“Okay, Mr. Horrocks?”
“Certainly. Whatever Miss Fox says.”
I beat it, closing the door behind me. Some smart guy was leaning on the button, for the bell kept on ringing as I went down the two flights. Fritz was standing in the hall, looking belligerent; he hated people that got impatient with the bell. I went to the door and pulled the curtain and looked out, and felt mercury running up my backbone. It was a quartet. Only four, and I recognized Lieutenant Rowcliff in front. It was him on the button. I hadn’t had such a treat for a long while. I turned the lock and let the door come as far as the chain.
Rowcliff called through: “Well! We’re not ants. Come on, open up.”
I said: “Take it easy. I’m just the messenger boy.”
“Yeah? Here’s the message.” He unfolded a paper he had in his hand. Having seen a search warrant before, I didn’t need a magnifying glass. I looked through the crack at it. Rowcliff said:
“What are you waiting for? Do you want me to count ten?”
I said, “Hold your horses, lieutenant. If what you want is in here it can’t get out, since I suppose you’ve got the rear and the roof covered. This isn’t my house, it belongs to Nero Wolfe and he’s upstairs. Wait a minute, I’ll be right back.”
I went up three steps at a time, paying no attention to Rowcliff yelling outside. I went in the south room; they were standing there. I said to Clara Fox, “They’re here. Make it snappy. Take Horrocks with you, and if he’s in on this I’ll kill him.”
Horrocks started, “Really—”
“Shut up! Go with Miss Fox. For God’s sake—”
She might have made an adventuress at that; she was okay when it came to action. She darted to the table and grabbed her handbag and handkerchief, dashed back and got Horrocks by the hand, and pulled him through the door with her. I took a quick look around to make sure there were no lipsticks or powder puffs left behind, shoved the table towards the window where it looked more natural, and beat it. In the hall I stopped one second to shake myself. Noises of Rowcliff bellowing on the stoop floated up. Horrocks and Clara Fox had disappeared. I went down to the front door and slid the bolt and flung it open.
“Welcome,” I grinned. “Mr. Wolfe says he wants the warrant for a souvenir.”
They trooped in behind Rowcliff. He grunted. “Where’s Wolfe?”
“Up with the plants. Until eleven o’clock. He told me to tell you this, that of course you have the legal right to search the entire premises, but that the city will pay for every nickel’s worth of damage that’s done if he has to go to City Hall himself to collect it.”
“No! Don’t scare
me to death. Come on, boys. Where does that go to?”
“Front room.” I pointed. “Office. Kitchen. Basement stairs. The rear door is down there, onto the court.”
He turned, and then whirled to me again. “Look here, Goodwin. You’ve had your bluff called. Why not save time? Why don’t you bring this Fox woman down here, or up here, and call it a trick? It’d save a lot of messing around.”
I said, coldly, “Pish-tush. Which isn’t for you, lieutenant; I know you’ve got orders. It’s for Inspector Cramer, and you can take it to him. The horse-laugh he’ll get over this will be heard at Bath Beach. Does he think Nero Wolfe is simple enough to try to hide a woman under his bed? Go on and finish your button-button-who’s-got-the-button and get the hell out of here.”
He grunted and started off with his army toward the door of the basement stairs. I followed. I wanted to keep an eye on them anyway, on general principles, but besides that, I had decided to ride him. Wolfe had told me to use my judgment, and I knew that was the best way to put a bird like Rowcliff in the frame of mind we wanted him in. So I was right behind them going down, and while they poked around all over the basement, pulling the curtains back from the shelves, opening trunks and looking into empty packing cartons, I exercised the tongue. Rowcliff tried to pass it back once or twice and then pretended not to hear me. I opened the door to the insulated bottle department, and kept jerking my head around at them as if I expected to catch them in a snatch at a quart of rye. They finished up down there by taking a look at the court out of the back door, and afte I got the door locked again I followed them back up to the first floor.
