All that commotion changed the situation entirely. I made it double quick to the left across the grass until I reached the other fork of the path, and kept going. Around a bend, there they were — Heath seated on a bench with a woman, a big collie lying at their feet. When I stopped in front of them the collie rose to its haunches and made a noise, asking a question. I had a hand in a coat pocket.
“Tell the dog it’s okay,” I suggested. “I hate to shoot a dog.”
“Why should you—” Heath started, and stopped. He stood up.
“Yeah, it’s me,” I said. “Representing Nero Wolfe. It won’t help if you scream, there’s two of us. Come on out, Saul. Watch the dog, it may not wait for orders.”
There was a sound from the direction of the bushes, and in a moment Saul appeared, circling around to join me on the right. The dog made a noise that was more of a whine than a growl, but it didn’t move. The woman put a hand on its head. I asked Saul, “Could you hear what they said?”
“Most of it. I heard enough.”
“Was it interesting?”
“Yes.”
“This is illegal,” Heath stated. He was half choked with indignation or something. “This is an invasion—”
“Nuts. Save it; you may need it. I have a cab parked at the Eighty-sixth-Street entrance. Four of us with the dog will just fill it comfortably. Mr. Wolfe is expecting us. Let’s go.”