At that point the phone rang and I answered it, and heard a familiar voice:
“Archie? Saul Panzer. May I speak to Mr. Wolfe?”
Wolfe took it on his phone, and I learned that during my absence he had got hold of Saul and sent him to the Flower Show. After getting a report he told Saul to drop the line he was on and come to the office. He hung up and leaned back and heaved a sigh, and regarded Rose with no sign of esteem.
“That,” he said, “was a man I sent to collect facts about Mr. Gould. I’d rather get them from you. I’ll allow you until tomorrow to jog your memory about what you saw in that corridor this afternoon, but you’ll tell me about him now. We’ve got all night. How long had you known him?”
“About two years,” she said sullenly.
“Are you his wife? His widow?”
She flushed and her lips tightened. “No. He said he wasn’t the marrying kind. That’s what he said.”
“But he lived on Morrow Street with you?”
“No, he didn’t. He only came there. He had a room in one of the houses on the Dill place on Long Island. No one ever knew about Morrow Street — I mean no one out there.” She suddenly perked forward and her eyes flashed, and I was surprised at her spunk. “And no one’s going to know about it! You hear that? Not while I’m alive they’re not!”
“Do you have relatives on Long Island? Do your folks live there?”