The Doorbell Rang (The Rex Stout Library)

"No. Dog sense. You are moving your legs around because your tail is between them. This is what you said, in effect: I am offered a job with the largest retainer in my experience and no limit on expenses or fee, but I should decline it. I should decline it, not because it would be difficult and perhaps impossible-I have taken many jobs that seemed impossible-but because it would give offense to a certain man and his organization and he would retaliate. I decline it because I dare not take it; I would rather submit to a threat than-"

"I didn't say that!"

"It was implicit. You are cowed. You are daunted. Not, I concede, without reason; the hands and voices of many highly placed men have been stayed by the same trepidation. Possibly mine would be too if it were merely a matter of declining or accepting a job. But I will not return that check for one hundred thousand dollars because I am afraid of a bully. My self-esteem won't let me. I suggest that you take a vacation for an indefinite period. With pay; I can afford it."

I uncrossed my legs. "Beginning now?"

"Yes." He was grim.

"These notes are in my personal code. Shall I type them?"

"No. That would implicate you. I'll see Mr Cohen again."

I clasped my hands behind my head and eyed him. "I still say you're cracked," I said, "and I deny that my tail was between my legs, since they were crossed, and it would be a ball to step aside and see how you went at it without me, but after all the years in the swim with you it would be lowdown to let you sink alone. If I get daunted along the way I'll let you know." I picked up the torn sheets. "You want this typed?"

"No. For our discussion you will translate as required."

"Right. A suggestion. The mood you're in, do you want to declare war by phoning the client? She left her unlisted number, and of course it's tapped. Shall I get her?"

"Yes."

I got at the phone and dialed.

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