“Very well,” Wolfe conceded. “But you should consider that whoever drugged Miss Lauer and carried her through the house was under a pressure that demanded superhuman effort. I advise you never to try your hand at detective work. At least you can tell me where Mrs. Pitcairn’s room — no.” He wiggled a finger. “Is there paper in that desk? And a pencil?”
“Sure.”
“Please sketch me a plan of the house — ground plans of both floors. I heard it described this afternoon, but I want to be sure I have it right. Just roughly, but identify all the rooms.”
Gus obliged. He got a pad and pencil from a drawer and set to work. The pencil moved fast. In no time he had two sheets torn from the pad and crossed over to hand them to Wolfe, and told him, “I didn’t show the back stairs leading up to the room where Mr. and Mrs. Imbrie sleep, but the little passage upstairs goes there too.”
Wolfe glanced at the sheets, folded them, and stuck them in his pocket. “Thank you, sir,” he said graciously. “You have been—”
What stopped him was the sound of heavy steps on the porch. I got up to go and open the door, not waiting for a knock, but there was no knock. Instead, there was the noise of a key inserted and turned, the door swung open and a pair entered.
It was Lieutenant Noonan and one of the rank and file.
“Who the hell,” he demanded, “do you think you are?”
VII
Gus was on his feet. I whirled and stood. Wolfe spoke from his chair.