I nodded and got busy. At that time of night, going on ten o’clock, the lines were mostly free, and I had a connection with Plainview, Nebraska, in less than ten minutes. It was a peison-to-person call and a good clear connection; Ed Donvaag’s husky voice, from his farmhouse out on the western prairie, was in my ear as plain as Francis Horrocks’ had been from the Hotel Portland. Wolfe took his line.
“Mr. Donvaag? This is Nero Wolfe…. That’s it. You remember I talked to you this afternoon and you were good enough to go after Mr. Lindquist for a conversation with me…. Yes, sir. I have to ask another favor of you. Can you hear me well? Good. It will be necessary for you to go again to Mr. Lindquist tonight or the first thing tomorrow morning– Tell him there is reason to suspect that someone means him injury and may attempt it. … Yes. We don’t know how. Tell him to be circumspect—to be careful. Does he eat candy? He might receive a box of poisoned candy in the mail. Even, possibly, a bomb. Anything. He might receive a telegram saying his daughter has died—with results expected from the shock to him…. No, indeed. His daughter is well and there is nothing to fear for her… Well, this is a peculiar situation; doubtless you will hear all about it later. Tell him to be careful and to suspect anything at all unusual….You can go at once? Good. You are a good neighbor, sir. Good night.”
Wolfe rang off and pushed the button for beer. He sighed. “That desperate fool has a good deal to answer for. Another four dollars. Three? Oh, the night rate. Bring another, Fritz. Archie, give Saul the necessary facts regarding Mr. Muir and send him out. We want to know where he was from six to eight this evening.”
I went to the kitchen and did that. Johnny Keems was helping Fritz with the dishes and Saul was in my breakfast comer with the remainder of the dish of ripe olives. He didn’t write anything down; he never had to. He pointed his long nose at me and absorbed the dope, nodded, took a twenty for expenses, gathered up the last of the olives into a handful, and departed. I let him out.
Back in the office, I asked Wolfe if he wanted me to try for Cramer again. He shook his head. He was leaning back with his eyes closed, and the faint movement of his lips in and out informed me that he was in conference with himself. I sat down and put my feet on my desk. In a few minutes I got up again and went to the cabinet and poured myself a shot of bourbon, smelled it, and poured it back into the bottle. It wasn’t whisky I wanted. I went to the kitchen and asked Johnny some more questions about the layout up at? 5th Street, and drank a glass of milk.
It was ten o’clock when Hilda Lindquist arrived. There was a man with her, but when I told him Saul wasn’t there he didn’t come in. I told him Saul would fix it with him and he beat it. Hilda’s square face and brown dress didn’t look any the worse for wear during the twenty-four hours since she had gone off, but her eyes were solemn and determined. She said of course the thing was all off, since they had caught the Marquis of Clivers and he would be executed for murder, and her father would be disappointed because he was old and they would lose the farm, and would she be able to get her bag which she had left at the hotel, and she would like to start for home as soon as there was a train. I told her to drive in and park a while, there was still some fireworks left in the bag, but by the way she turned her eyes on me I saw that she might develop into a real problem, so I put her in the front room and asked her to wait a minute.
I ran up to the south room and said to Clara Fox, “Hilda Lindquist is downstairs and I’m going to send her up. She thinks the show is over and she has to go back home to her poor old dad with her sock empty, and by the look in her eye it will take more than British diplomacy to keep her off of the next train. Nero Wolfe is going to work this out. I don’t know how and maybe he don’t either this minute, but he’ll do it. Nero Wolfe is probably even better than I think he is, and that’s a mouthful. You wrote the music for this piece, and half your band has been killed, and it’s up to you to keep the other half intact. Well?”
I had found her sitting in a chair with her lips compressed tight and her hands clenched. She looked at me, “All right. I will. Send her up here.”
“She can sleep in here with you, or in the room in front on this floor. You know how to ring for Fritz.”
“All right.”
I went down and told Squareface that Clara Fox wanted to speak to her, and shooed her up, and heard them exchanging greetings in the upper hall.
There was nothing in the office but a gob of silence; Wolfe was still in conference. I would have tried some bulldozing if I had thought he was merely dreaming of stuffed quail or pickled pigs’ feet, but his lips were moving a little so I knew he was working. I fooled around my desk, went over Johnny’s diagrams again in connection with an idea that had occurred to me, checked over Horstmann’s reports and entered them in the records, reread the Gazette scoop on the affair at 55th Street, and aggravated myself into such a condition of uselessness that finally, at eleven o’clock sharp, I exploded. “If this keeps up another ten minutes I’ll get Weltschmerzi”
Wolfe opened his eyes. “Where in the name of heaven did you get that?”
I threw up my hands. He shut his eyes again.
The doorbell rang. I knew it couldn’t be Johnny Keems with another extra, because he was in the kitchen with Fritz, since I hadn’t been able to prod an instruction from Wolfe to send him home again. It was probably Saul Panzer with the dope on Muir. But it wasn’t; I knew that when the bell started again as I entered the hall. It kept on ringing, so I leisurely pulled the curtain for a look through the panel, and when I saw there were four of them, another quartet, I switched on the stoop light to make a good survey. One of them, in evening dress, was leaning on the bell button. I recognized the whole bunch. I turned and beat it back to the office.
“Who the devil is ringing that bell?” Wolfe demanded. “Why don’t you—”
I interrupted, grinning. “That’s Police Commissioner Hombert. With him are Inspector Cramer, District Attorney Skinner, and my old friend Purley Stebbins of the Homicide Squad. Is it too late for company?”
“Indeed.” Wolfe sat up and rubbed his nose. “Bring them in.”
Chapter 16
They entered as if they owned the place. I tipped Purley a wink as he passed me, but he was too impressed by his surroundings to reciprocate, and I didn’t blame him, as I knew he might get either a swell promotion or the opposite out of this by the time it was over. From the threshold I saw a big black limousine down at the curb, and back of it two other police cars containing city fellers. Well, well, I thought to myself as I closed the door, this looks pretty damned ominous. Cramer had asked me if Wolfe was in the office and I had waved him on, and now I brought up the rear of the procession.
I moved chairs around. Cramer introduced Hombert and Skinner, but Skinner and Wolfe had already met. At Cramer’s request I took Purley Stebbins to the kitchen and told him to play checkers with Johnny Keems. When I got back Hombert was shooting off his mouth about defiance of the law, and I got at my desk and ostentatiously opened my notebook. Cramer was looking more worried than I had ever seen him. District Attorney Skinner, already sunk in his chair as if he had been there all evening, had the wearied cynical expression of a man who had some drinks three hours ago and none since.