The Doorbell Rang (The Rex Stout Library)

There was a little question of etiquette. As a matter of business it would have been proper to tell her that neither Nero Wolfe nor I was ever allowed to pay for anything we or our guests ate at Rusterman's, so it wouldn't be an item on the expense account, but such a remark didn't seem to fit with Squabs a la Moscovite, Mushrooms Polonaise, Salade Beatrice, and Souffle Armenonville. I vetoed it. I didn't resume on Miss Dacos, but our only known common interest was the FBI. I learned that she had received 607 letters thanking her for the book, most of them just a polite sentence or two; 184 disapproving letters, some pretty strong; and 29 anonymous letters and cards calling her names. I was surprised that it was only 29; out of the 10,000 there must have been a couple of hundred members of the John Birch Society and similar outfits.

With the coffee I returned to Miss Dacos, having done some calculating. If Wolfe left Hewitt's at four o'clock he would get back around five-thirty, but he might leave later, say five, and arrive at six-thirty, in need of refreshment after the dangerous trip in the dark of night surrounded by thousands of treacherous machines. It would have to be after dinner. When Pierre left after serving coffee I told Mrs Bruner, "Of course Mr Wolfe will have to see Miss Dacos. She may know nothing, as you say, but he'll have to satisfy himself on that. Will you tell her to be here at nine o'clock this evening? In this room. Our office may be bugged."

"But I told you it was just a girl talking."

I said she was probably right, but one of Wolfe's specialties was prying something useful out of people who just talk, and when she finished her coffee I took her to Felix's office in the rear, and she got Miss Dacos on the phone and arranged it.