Before Midnight

Pfui," he said, and shut his eyes. I treated myself to a good yawn and stretch, and looked at my wrist. Twenty to seven.

For the second time that day we had a king-size wait. At six-forty-five I turned on the radio to see how the Giants had made out with the Phillies, and got no glow out of that. I would have gone to the kitchen for a glass of milk, since dinner would be late, but the only route was through the rear of the hall, and I didn't want to disturb the conference. At six-fifty-five I reminded Wolfe that Harold Rollins was due in five minutes, and he only nodded without opening his eyes. At seven-two the doorbell rang, and I went.

Still in a huddle at the rack, they broke off as I appeared and gave me their faces. Out on the stoop was a lone male. I went on by the huddle, opened the door, and said, "Mr. Rollins? Come in."

My own idea would have been to put him in the front room until the conference was over and we had got the score, but if Wolfe had wanted that he would have said so, and I'm perfectly willing to let him have things his way unless his ego is jostling mine. So I took Rollins' hat and coat and ushered him along to the office. I was inside too and was shutting the door when Susan's voice came. "Mr. Goodwin!"

I pulled the door to with me on the hall side. As I approached she asked, "Wasn't that one of them? The one named Rollins?"

"Right. Harold Rollins, Burlington, Iowa, professor of history at Bemis College."

She looked at her pals. Their heads all moved, an inch to the left and back again. She looked at me. "Mr. Wolfe asked me if I had any comment about what he told me about Miss Frazee. He asked me if I thought it was worth discussing. I have no comment now, but I will have. It's absolutely outrageous to expect--"

A quick tug at her sleeve by Knudsen stopped her. She shot him a glance and then pushed her head forward at me. "No comment!" she shrilled, and turned to reach to the rack for her coat. The men simultaneously reached for theirs.

"If you gentlemen don't mind," I said, perfectly friendly, "my grandmother out in Ohio used to ask me if the cat had my tongue. I've always wondered about it. Was it a cat in your case?"

No soap. Not a peep. I gave up and opened the door to let them out.

Chapter 8