I listened at the door a minute, opened it, passed through, and pulled it shut. I stood. There was no sight, sound, or smell of man or woman. I went to the stairs and started down quietly, which was no feat on the carpeted treads. At the bottom I stood again. Sounds of voices came up from the floor below, where dinner had been served, so they were still at the table. I headed down the hall for the door to Huck’s study.
It was dark in there, but I closed the door before groping for the wall switch. It gave me light from ceiling fixtures, plenty, and I crossed to Huck’s desk, which was actually two desks with an alley between them for his wheelchair, so that when he maneuvered into the alley he had desk space on both sides. There were three phones on the left, one a house phone and the other two labeled with their numbers, but the numbers were different. One of them was the number listed in the phone book, and I moved it forward, since it was the one I wanted to use, no matter how many extensions were on it. Needing two props, I looked around. One of them, exactly what I wanted, was on the other desk — a paperweight, a heavy ball of green marble with a segment sliced off to give it a base. For the other, there were hundreds of books available, and any of them would do. I would have liked to do some experimenting to find out how thick a book to use and how hard to hit it to get the effect I wanted, but under the circumstances it was not advisable. I got one about an inch thick, too intent on my program to notice the title, put it flat on the other desk, not the one the phone was on, lifted the receiver and dialed a number, and took the paperweight in my right hand.
Fritz answered, and I told him I was sorry to interrupt Wolfe’s dinner if he wasn’t finished, but I had to ask him something. After a wait his gruff voice came.
“Yes, Archie?”
I gave it pace and urgency. “I’m in Huck’s study, and there may be someone on an extension, but I can’t help it. If I call the cops now there’ll be hell to pay, because — no, it’s too long to explain. You absolutely refuse to leave the house on business, okay, but what about Saul? I need him. If you can get Saul—”
I cut myself off by bringing the paperweight down on the book and emitting the kind of sharp little agonized grunt a man may emit when he is solidly and accurately conked, and I let the receiver drop to the desk with a clatter. Also I collapsed onto the floor with enough racket to reach the transmitter, but not enough, I hoped, to alarm Huck up above or the quartet down below. Then I got back onto my feet and stood regarding the receiver lying on the table. That was a question I had left open. It might seem more natural for the cracker of my skull to replace the receiver, but if Wolfe dialed the number I certainly didn’t want extensions ringing all over the place, and this way he would get a busy signal. So I let it lie.
It was now a matter of timing. Wolfe could conceivably try dialing the number, fail to get it, and shrug it off, but I doubted it. He was tough, but not that tough. He could phone the cops to please come and feel my pulse, but he never would, not after okaying my postponement of reporting a homicide. Then he would come himself, which was of course the idea, and I wanted to be at the door to let him in, but I did not want to leave the study at once, with the receiver out of its cradle. Two minutes would surely see him out of the house and on his way, but I would allow ten. I put the paperweight back, returned the book to its place on a shelf, and spent the rest of the time gazing at my watch. At the end of the tenth minute I replaced the receiver, left the room, and went down a flight to the entrance hall.
Dorothy Riff was there with her hat on, putting on her coat. If I had been thirty seconds later I would have been minus a member of the cast. She shot me a glance but offered no converse. I asked her courteously, “You’re not leaving us?”
“Yes.” She was brusque. “I’m going home. Any objection?”
“Yes.” I was brusque too.
“Oh?” She cocked an eye. “You have?”
I nodded. “I’ve decided that you folks are too genteel for me. I’m the type that sticks thumbs in people’s eyes, and this is the wrong setting for it. I have phoned Mr. Wolfe to tell him that, and he agrees, and he’s on his way up here. He will particularly want to speak with you, since it was you who suggested that his client is a blackmailer, so if you don’t mind waiting?”
She was frowning. “Nero Wolfe coming here?”
“Yes.”
“What for?”
I waved a hand. “To detect.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Well, I won’t try to sell you on it. Seeing is believing, and seeing him you can believe anything. I have appointed myself doorman, to let no one out, and to let him in.”
“That’s silly. I can go if I please.”
“Sure you can. If you think Huck would like that.”
She opened her mouth, shut it again, turned and made for the stairs, and flew up. As she did so Paul Thayer emerged from a door on the right, from the room where the TV was, followed by Mrs. O’Shea and Sylvia Marcy. They came on, Thayer demanding, “What’s all the powwow? Where’s Miss Riff?”
I said I had told her that Wolfe was on his way to join us, and she had gone up to tell Huck. The news did not visibly impress Mrs. O’Shea, but Sylvia cooed something appreciatively, and Thayer backed off, lowering his chin and gazing at me from under his heavy brows. He had no question or comment, but the two women did. Mrs. O’Shea stated that she had always thought that professional detectives caused more trouble than they cured, and now she was sure of it. Miss Marcy said she would love to be asked questions by Nero Wolfe, even if it wasn’t something dreadful like murder, only her mind wasn’t very quick and she hoped he wouldn’t get her tangled up about some little thing.
A buzzer sounded, and I went and opened the door, and Wolfe stepped in.
He gave me a piercing glance, swept his eyes around to take in the others, returned to me, and muttered, “Well?”
“Miss Marcy,” I said. “Mrs. O’Shea. Mr. Thayer. This is Mr. Wolfe.”
He inclined his head a quarter of an inch. “How do you do.” Again to me, louder and plainer, “Well?”
“There’s an elevator,” I told him, “which makes it simple. We all take it. You and I get off on the next floor and go to the study, and I explain the situation. The others go to Mr. Huck’s room on the floor above and tell him we;ll be up shortly, if that’s how you would like to handle it. If otherwise, you send me up with a message. Perfectly simple. Your coat and hat?”
He let me take them. Putting them on a chair and making for the elevator, with them following, I heard Sylvia cooing something at him but didn’t catch it. One flight up Wolfe and I got out, and I led the way down the hall to the study, opened the door, and stood aside for him. When I turned from closing the door he was facing me.
“Well?” he growled.
“Yes, sir. May I show you?”
I crossed to the desks and got between them. “I used this phone.” I touched it. “I put a book here.” I tapped the spot. “After dialing the number I took this in my right hand.” I picked up the paperweight. “At an appropriate moment I hit the book with it, grunted, let the receiver fall to the table, and dropped on the floor.”
That was one of the two or three times, possibly four, that I have seen him speechless. He didn’t even glare. He looked around, saw no chair that appealed to him, went to a couch against a wall, sat, and buttressed himself by spreading his arms and putting his palms flat on the couch.