The Doorbell Rang (The Rex Stout Library)

Looking back at it, I don't think we missed a single bet. Around eleven o'clock Wednesday night I went up to my room, which fronts on Thirty-fifth Street, paid no more attention to the curtains than usual, changed to pajamas, sat on the bed, and turned out the light on the bed stand. In a couple of minutes Fred and Orrie entered and undressed in the dark, and I got out and they got in. Saul slept on the sofa in the front room, and we didn't turn the lights on in there at all. We rarely do.

I mention a funny thing. As I turned the office lights out Wednesday night and got between sheets on the couch, I was thinking not of the trap we were setting and whether it was going to work, but of the couch in Sarah Dacos's apartment. What if the cleaning woman decided to turn the cushion over and looked under the spring? If I had stayed another five minutes maybe I could have found a better spot.

The two meals I mentioned were Wednesday's lunch and dinner.

Thursday's breakfast and lunch were different because Fritz wasn't there. The arrangement was that Hewitt would have a car there for Fritz at eight o'clock, and it came right on time. I carried his bag out for him, and at the car door he shook my hand, looking glum. He was in no mood for producing masterpieces for a bunch of aristologists. Saul and I handled the breakfast problem, and for lunch we had cold cuts, including the sturgeon, which had been passed as edible, two bottles of champague, and five kinds of cheese.