The Mother Hunt (Rex Stout Library)

You're damn right I would. Cramer took a step toward the door, remembered his hat, reached across the red leather chair to get it, and marched out. I went to the hall to see that he was on the outside when he shut the door. When I stepped back in, Wolfe spoke.

No mention of anonymous letters. A stratagem?

No. The mood he's in, he would have used any club he had. So it wasn't Upton. Not that that matters. There were a dozen lines to her.

He took in air through his nose, clear down, and let it out through his mouth. She knows nothing he doesn't know, except the message. Should you tell her to talk, reserving only that?

No. If she answers ten questions they'll make it a million. I'll go and tell her what to expect, and I'll be there when they come with a warrant. I suggest you should phone Parker. Tomorrow's the Fourth of July, and arranging bail on a holiday can be a problem.

The wretch, he growled, and as I headed for the front I was wondering whether he meant Cramer or the client. When Saul Panzer phoned at half past three Saturday afternoon, July 7, to report that he had closed the last gap on the adoption, eliminating the girl who worked in Willis Krug's office, the second stage of the mother hunt was done. A very superior job by all five of us (I might as well include Wolfe): 148 girls and women covered and crossed off, and nobody's face scratched. Very satisfactory. Nuts. I told Sal that would be all for now but there might be more chores later. Fred and Orrie had already been turned loose.

Wolfe sat and scowled at whatever his eyes happened to light on. I asked him if he had any program for me, and when he gave me a look that the situation fully deserved but I didn't, I told him I was going to a beach for a swim and would be back Sunday night. He didn't even ask where he could reach me, but before I left I put a slip on his desk with a phone number. It belonged to a cottage on Long Island which Lucy Valdon had rented for the summer.