He got to his feet, bowed to her like a man who knows how to bow, and told her, “How do you do. It looks as if it’s hopeless, at least for this evening, for both of us. I’ll have to hunt a taxi, and it would be a pleasure if you’ll let me drop you...”
So they left together. Going down the stoop, which I admit was moderately steep, he indicated not obtrusively that he had an arm there, and she rested her fingers in the bend of it to steady herself. That alone showed astonishing progress in almost no time at all, for she was by no means a born dinger.
Oh, well, he was a major too. I shrugged indifferently as I shut the door. Then I sought the stairs, mounted a flight to the door of Wolfe’s room, knocked, and was invited to enter.
Standing in the doorway to his bathroom, facing me, his old-fashioned razor in his hand, all lathered up, he demanded brusquely, “What time is it?”
“Six-thirty.”
“When is the next train?”
“Seven o’clock. But what the hell, apparently there is going to be work to do. I can put it off to next week.”
“No. It’s on your mind. Get that train.”
“I have room in my mind for—”
“No.”