The Doorbell Rang (The Rex Stout Library)

An hour later we were having a pleasant evening. The three guests and I were in the front room, in a tight game of pinochle, and Wolfe was in his one and only chair in the office, reading a book. The book was The FBI Nobody Knows. He was either gloating or doing research, I didn't know which.

At ten o'clock I had to excuse myself from the card table briefly; Wolfe had said he wanted to call Hewitt then, when the aristologists would presumably have finished their meal. I went to the office and made the call. Wolfe told Hewitt it had worked perfectly and thanked him. Hewitt said they had found the stand-ins very entertaining; Jarvis had recited passages from Shakespeare and Kirby had mimicked President Johnson and Barry Goldwater and Alfred Lunt. Wolfe said to give them his regards, and I went back to pinochle and Wolfe to his book.

But there was another interruption a little after eleven o'clock. The phone rang, and Wolfe hates to answer it, so I went and got it at my desk.

"Nero Wolfe's residence, Archie Goodwin speaking."

"This is Richard Wragg, Goodwin." The voice was a drawl, smooth and low-pitched. "I want to speak to Wolfe."

We had known that might happen, and I had instructions.

"I'm afraid you can't, Wragg. He's engaged."

"I want to see him."

"Good idea. He thought you might. Say here, his office, at eleven in the morning?"

"I want to see him tonight. Now."

"I'm sorry, Wragg, that isn't possible. He's very busy. The earliest would be eleven in the morning."

"What's he busy at?"

"He's reading a book. The FBI Nobody Knows. In half an hour he'll be in bed."

"I'll be there at eleven."

It sounded as if he cradled it with a bang, but I could have imagined that. I turned to Wolfe. "I called him Wragg because that's his name. Eleven o'clock tomorrow morning. As expected."

"And desired. We must confer. When your game is finished."

I rose. "It won't take long. I just melded three hundred and forty."

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