The Doorbell Rang (The Rex Stout Library)

She did all right. A woman who can toss you a check for a hundred grand without blinking hasn't had much practice listening to reason from a hireling, but she managed it. She didn't count ten, at least not audibly, but she picked up her glass and drank, gave me a straight look, put the glass down, and spoke. "I didn't 'conceal' anything. It just didn't occur to me to mention Morris Althaus. Or perhaps it did occur to me while I was thinking about it, but not while I was talking to Mr Wolfe. Because it was just-I didn't really know anything. I don't know anything now. I had read about the murder and remembered that I had met him, but the only connection it had with the FBI was what Miss Dacos, my secretary, had told me, and that was just a girl talking. She didn't really know anything either. It had nothing to do with my sending the books. I sent them because I had read it, and I thought it was important for important people to read it. Does that answer your questions?"

"Pretty well, but it raises another one. Just keep in mind that I'm working on your job. What had Miss Dacos told you?"

"Nothing but talk. She lived at the same address, she still does. Her-"

"What same address?"

"The same as that man, Morris Althaus. In the Village. Her apartment is on the second floor, below his. She was out that evening, and soon after-"

"The night he was killed?"

"Yes. Stop interrupting me. Soon after she returned to her apartment she heard footsteps outside, people going down the stairs, and she was curious about who it might be. She went to the window and looked out and saw three men leave the house and walk to the corner, and she thought they were FBI men. The only reason she had for thinking they were FBI men was that they looked like it; she said they were 'the type.' As I said, she didn't know anything, and I didn't know there was any connection between Morris Althaus and the FBI. You asked if I knew he was working on a piece on the FBI. No, not until you told me. I resent your suggestion that I concealed something." She looked at her wristwatch. "It's after one o'clock, and I have an appointment at half past two, a committee meeting that I must be on time for."

I pushed a button, two shorts, on a slab on the table, and begged her pardon for asking her to lunch and then starving her.

In a couple of minutes Pierre came with the lobster bisque, and I told him to bring the squabs in ten minutes without waiting for a ring.