“I’ll handle Nero Wolfe.”
“Hooray. No one ever has yet.”
I didn’t get to see her try, because she didn’t get to see Wolfe.
Since chain-bolt orders were in effect, my key wouldn’t let us in and I had to ring the doorbell for Fritz. I had just pushed the button when who should appear, mounting the steps to join us on the stoop, but the Army officer that they use for a model when they want to do a picture conveying the impression that masculine comeliness will win the war. I admit he was handsome; I admitted it to myself right then, when I first saw him. He looked preoccupied and concentrated, but even so he found time for a glance at Jane, which was actually nothing against him, especially when you consider that she also found time for a glance at him.
At that moment the door swung open and I spoke to Fritz. “Okay, thanks. Is Mr. Wolfe in the office?”
“No, he’s up in his room.”
“All right, I’ll take it.” Fritz departed, and I maneuvered into position to dominate the scene, on the door-sill facing out. I spoke to the masculine model.
“Yes, Major? This is Nero Wolfe’s place.”
“I know it is.” He had a baritone voice that suited him to a T. “I want to see him. My name is Emil Jensen. I am the son of Ben Jensen, who was killed last night.”
“Oh.” There wasn’t much resemblance, but that’s nature’s lookout. I have enough to do. “Mr. Wolfe has an appointment. It would be handy if I could tell him what you want.”