The Mother Hunt (Rex Stout Library)

To use Mr. Goodwin's favorite locution, one will get you ten that you don't. I'll scramble eggs for your breakfast and we'll see. Tell me forty minutes before you're ready.

Her eyes widened. Forty minutes?

Yes. I knew you didn't know. Manuel Upton came at a quarter to twelve Monday morning.

There had been a few little developments. The client had admitted to Wolfe, in my hearing, that she didn't know how to scramble eggs. I had admitted to him, in her hearing, that the scrambled eggs I had just eaten were fully up to Fritz's very best. He had admitted to her, in my hearing, that forty was more minutes than you could expect a housewife to spend exclusively on scrambling eggs, but he maintained that it was impossible to do it to perfection in less, with each and every particle exquisitely firm, soft, and moist.

The News, which I had to go out for, stated that the late Carol Mardus had once been a bosom friend of the late Richard Valdon, famous novelist, but there was no hint that that was anything more than an interesting item in her record which the public had a right to know.

Saul had come at half past nine as arranged, and had been instructed regarding Anne Tenzer. He had reported that he had phoned Fritz at eight o'clock, and had been told that Homicide dicks were holding down the office day and night, in shifts, by authority of a search warrant, and that one of them was listening in; and Saul had said that he was calling just to say that he had nothing on and was available for an errand if Wolfe had one. He also reported that he had heard from a reliable source which he wouldn't name even to us that a slip of paper with Wolfe's phone number on it had been found in Carol Mardus's apartment. So maybe no one had squawked. Maybe Cramer had merely been going to ask Wolfe if he had ever seen or heard of Carol Mardus, but that would have been enough to light the fuse. Saul was given three-hundred dollars' worth of tens and twenties. Anne Tenzer might be broke and appreciate it.

The reception for Upton was simply staged. Lucy was tending door anyway, since there might possibly be an official caller for her, and she let him in, took him up to the second floor, and led him into the big room. I had moved the roomiest chair over near the couch, and Wolfe was in it. I was standing. Upton entered, saw us, and stopped. He turned to Lucy, but she wasn't there. She had slipped out and was shutting the door, as agreed.