The Doorbell Rang (The Rex Stout Library)

I gave him the whole crop-the talk with Mrs Bruner, the hundred-grand retainer, the evening with Lon Cohen, my talk with Mrs Bruner and Sarah Dacos, my day on Evers Electronics and Ernst Muller and Julia Fenster, my sleeping on the couch in the office. I didn't report it all verbatim, but I covered all the points and answered questions along the way. By the time I finished the milk glass was empty and he had a cigar between his teeth. He doesn't smoke cigars, he merely mangles them.

He removed the cigar and said, "So the hundred grand is his, no matter what happens."

I nodded. "And a check for me, personally. Didn't I mention that?"

"You did. I'm not surprised at Wolfe. With his ego, there's no one and nothing he wouldn't take on if you paid him. But I'm surprised at you. You know damn well the FBI can't be bucked. Not even by the White House. And you're hopping around pecking at people's scabs. You're asking for it and you'll get it. You're off your hinges."

I poured milk. "You're absolutely right," I said. "From any angle, you're dead right. An hour ago I would have said amen. But you know, I feel different about it now. Did I mention something Mr Wolfe said last night? He said some sting may have stirred someone to action. All right, they were stung into needling Perazzo, and he was stung into calling the Commissioner, and he was stung into calling you, and you were stung into getting me here without company and treating me to a quart of milk, which is completely incredible. If one incredible thing can happen, so can another one. Will you answer a question?"

"Ask it."

"You don't exactly love Nero Wolfe, and you certainly don't love me. Why do you want to make a report to the Commissioner that will make it tough to take our licenses?"

"I haven't said I do."

"Nuts." I tapped the milk carton. "This says it. Getting me here the way you did says it. Why?"

He left the chair and moved. He tiptoed to the door, smooth and silent considering his age and bulk, jerked the door open, and stuck his head out. Evidently he wasn't as sure he was loose as I was that I was. He shut the door and went to the bathroom, and I heard water spurting from a faucet, and in a minute he came with a glass of water. He drank it, in no hurry, put the glass on the table, sat, and narrowed his eyes at me.

"I've been a cop for thirty-six years," he said, "and this is the first time I've ever passed the buck to an outsider."

I had my eyes smile a little. "I'm flattered. Or Mr Wolfe is."