Champagne for One

The doorbell rang. I arose, asked Cramer politely to excuse me, stepped to the hall, and through the one-way glass saw a recent social acquaintance, though it took me a second to recognize him because his forty-dollar fedora covered the uncombed hair. I went and opened the door, confronted him, said, "Ssshhh," patted my lips with a forefinger, backed up, and beckoned him in. He hesitated, looking slightly startled, then crossed the threshold. I shut the door and, without stopping to relieve him of his hat and coat, opened the door to the front room, which is on the same side of the hall as the office, motioned him in, followed him, and shut the door.

"It’s all right here," I told him. "Soundproofed, doors and all."

"All right for what?" Edwin Laidlaw asked.

"For privacy. Unless you came to see Inspector Cramer of Homicide?"

"I don’t know what you’re talking about. I came to see you."

"I thought you might have, and I also thought you might prefer not to collide with Cramer. He’s in the office chatting with Mr Wolfe, and is about ready to go, so I shunted you in here."

"I’m glad you did. I’ve seen all I want of policemen for a while." He glanced around. "Can we talk here?"

"Yes, but I must go and see Cramer off. I’ll be back soon. Have a chair."

I went to the door to the hall and opened it, and there was Cramer heading for the front. He didn’t even look at me, let alone speak. I thought if he could be rude I could too, so I let him get his own hat and coat and let himself out. When the door had closed behind him I went to the office and crossed to Wolfe’s desk. He spoke.

"I will make one remark, Archie. To bedevil Mr Cramer for a purpose is one thing; to do so merely for pastime is another."

"Yes, sir. I wouldn’t dream of it. You’re asking me if my position with you, privately, is the same as it was with him. The answer is yes."

"Very well. Then he’s in a pickle."

"That’s too bad. Someone else is too, apparently. Yesterday when I was invited to the party and given the names of the male guests, I wanted to know who they were and phoned Lon Cohen. One of them, Edwin Laidlaw, is a fairly important citizen for a man his age. He used to be pretty loose around town, but three years ago his father died and he inherited ten million dollars, and recently he bought a controlling interest in the Malvin Press, book publishers, and apparently he intends to settle down and-"

"Is this of interest?"