Nobody saw anyone get out of it”
“Well, that’s something.” I was hopeful. “That ought to get you somewhere.”
“Probably stolen.
They usually are.”
The dick had his hat in his hand.
“Gang stuff, it looks like.
Much obliged to you folks anyhow.”
“Don’t mention it. Slim.”
I went to the hall with him, and saw him out the front door, and shut it after him and slid the bolt.
Before I returned to the office I stopped at the kitchen and told Fritz that I’d answer any doorbells that might ring for the rest of the evening.
I crossed to Wolfe’s desk and grinned at him.
“Ha-ha.
The damn police were here.”
Wolfe looked at the clock, which said ten minutes past seven.
He reached out and pushed the button, and, when Fritz came, leaned back and sighed.
“Fritz.”
“Yes, sir.”
“A calamity.
We cannot possibly dine at eight as usual.
Not dine, that is.
We can eat, and I suppose we shall have to.
You have filets of beef with sauce Abano.”
“Yes, sir.”
Wolfe sighed again.
“You will have to serve it in morsels, for five persons.
By adding some of the fresh stock you can have plenty of soup.
Open Hungarian petits poissons.
You have plenty of fruit?
Fill in as you can.
It is distressing, but there’s no help for it.”
“The sauce is a great success, sir.
I could give the others canned chicken and mushrooms—”
“Confound it, no!
If there are to be hardships, I must share them.
That’s all.
Bring me some beer.”
Fritz went, and Wolfe turned to me.
“Bring Clara Fox.”
I unlocked the door to the front room.
Fritz hadn’t turned on all the lights, and it was dim.
The two women were side by side on the divan, and Mike Walsh was in a chair, blinking at me as if he had been asleep.
I said,
“Mr. Wolfe would like to speak to Miss Fox.”
Mike Walsh said,
“I’m hungry.”
Clara Fox said,
“To all of us.”
“First just you.
Please. There’ll be some grub pretty soon, Mr. Walsh.
If you’ll wait in here.”