The Doorbell Rang (The Rex Stout Library)

"Then I have a suggestion." He looked at the wall clock. Five minutes past noon. "What time does Miss Dacos go to lunch?"

"It varies. She eats there, in the breakfast room, usually around one o'clock."

"Then Mr Panzer will go with you now. Tell her you are going to have the office redecorated-painted, plastered, whatever suits-and you won't need her the remainder of this week. Mr Panzer will start the preparations immediately. She, your secretary, is going to be taken, but at least she won't be taken from your house. I do not want a murderer taken into custody in the house of my client. Do you?"

"No."

"Nor would you have wanted the disagreeable surprise of sitting in your office with your secretary and having the police suddenly appear and drag her out."

"No."

"Then you may thank me at your convenience for preventing it. You're not in a humor to thank anyone for anything at the moment. Shall Mr Panzer go in your car with you, or separately? You could discuss it with him on the way. He is not a fool."

She looked at me and back at Wolfe. "Can Mr Goodwin go?"

Saul has not yet heard the last of that. It didn't change my decision about marriage because I prefer to do the courting myself, but it gave me one on Saul. Wolfe told her no, Mr Goodwin had work to do, and the poor woman had to settle for Saul. He brought her coat from the front room and held it for her, and I admit I had a pang. By the time they got to Seventy-fourth Street she would be appreciating him. Not wanting to intrude, I didn't go to the hall with them.

When the sound came of the front door closing Wolfe cocked his head at me and demanded, "Say something."

"Bejabers," I said. "Will that do? A guy I know named Bimbaum uses it to show he's not prejudiced. Bejabers."

"Satisfactory."

"All of that."

"Our telephone is still tapped. Will you see Mr Cramer before lunch?"

"After would be better. He'll be in a better humor. It will take them only an hour or so to get the warrant."

"Very well. But don't- Yes, Fred?"

Fred Durkin, at the door, announced, "They want breakfast."

14

The office of the inspector in command of Homicide South on West Twentieth Street is not really shabby, but it's not for show. The linoleum floor has signs of wear, Cramer's desk would appreciate a sanding job, I have never seen the windows really clean, and the chairs, all but Cramer's, are plain, honest, hard wood. As I put my fundament on one of them at 2:35 p.m. he snapped at me, "I told you don't come and don't phone."