I told Wolfe, “Saul Panzer.”
He nodded, approaching. “Good. Go up to your room and look at your face. It needs washing.”
“So would yours if you had spent the night rolling around on sidewalks. You mean you have private business with Saul? Have you got him working on something?”
“Certainly. Mr. Perrit’s job.”
“Since when?”
“I phoned him last evening while you were taking Miss Page home. Go and wash your face.”
I went. Usually I resented it when Wolfe froze me out of operations with one of the men he used, but now I was too played out to bother, and besides, Saul was different. It was hard to resent anything about a guy as good as Saul Panzer. At the mirror in my bathroom I saw that there was no question about my face, so I attended to it, deciding to postpone shaving until after breakfast, and then went back down one flight to Wolfe’s room. He had finished his private talk with Saul and was sitting in his underwear, putting on his socks.
“What do you want to discuss?” I asked him.
“Nothing.”
I stared indignantly. “Well, by God.”