Rex Stout Fullscreen Kill again (1936)

Pause

She swallowed.

“But I—he—he promised …”

“So you did phone him.

Swell.

You forgot to mention it when I asked you about it a while ago.”

“But you didn’t ask me if I had phoned.”

“Oh, didn’t I?

Now that was careless.” I threw up my hands. “To hell with it.

Suppose you tell me what you phoned him about.

I hope it wasn’t a secret.”

“No, it wasn’t.” She came a step to me. “Must you be so sarcastic?

There was nothing … it was just personal.”

“As for instance?”

“Why, it was really nothing.

Of course, he sent those roses.

Then … I had had an engagement to dine with him Monday evening, and when I made the appointment with Mr. Wolfe I had to cancel the one with Mr. Horrocks, and when he insisted I thought that three hours would be enough with Mr. Wolfe, so I told Mr. Horrocks I would go with him at ten o’clock to dance somewhere, and probably he went to the apartment and waited around there I don’t know how long, and this morning I supposed he would keep phoning there and of course there would be no answer, and he couldn’t get me at the office either, and besides, I hadn’t thanked him for the roses—”

I put up a palm.

“Take a breath.

I see, romance.

It’d be still more romantic if he came to visit you in jail.

You’re quite an adventuress, being as you are over ninety per cent nincompoop.

I don’t suppose you know that according to an article in yesterday’s Times this Horrocks is the nephew of the Marquis of Clivers and next in line for the title.”

“Oh, yes.

He explained to me … that is … that’s all right.

I knew that.And Mr. Goodwin, I don’t like—”

“We’ll discuss your likes later.

Here’s something you don’t know.

Horrocks is downstairs in the office saying that he’s got to see you or he’ll run and get the police.”

“What!

He isn’t.”

“Yep.

Somebody is, and from his looks I’m willing to admit it’s Horrocks.”

“But he shouldn’t … he promised … send him away!”

“He won’t go away. If I throw him out he’ll yell for a cop.

He thinks you’re here under duress and need to be rescued—that’s his story.

You’re a swell client, you are.

With the chances Nero Wolfe’s taking for you—all right.

Anyhow, whether he’s straight or not, there’s no way out of it now.

I’m going to bring him up here, and for God’s sake make it snappy and let him go back to his uncle.”

“But I-good heavens!” She brushed her hair back. “I don’t want to see him.

Not now.

Tell him … of course I could … yes, that’s it… I’ll go down and just tell him—”

“You will not.

Next you’ll be wanting to go and walk around the block with him.

You stay here.”

Outside in the hall I hesitated, uncertain whether to go up and tell Wolfe of the party we were having, but decided there was no point in riling him– I went back down, tossing Fritz a nod as I passed by, and found the young diplomat sitting in the office with his arms sdll folded.

He put his brows up at me.

I told him to come on, and let him go first.

Behind him on the stairs I noticed he had good springs in his legs, and at the top his air pump hadn’t speeded up any.

Keeping fit for dear old England and the bloody empire.