I nodded. “That’s not strictly accurate, but it will do. He wanted me to see you. My name’s Archie Goodwin, and I work for Nero Wolfe, the detective, and your—”
“Oh! You’re that Goodwin?”
“Right. Your brother-in-law called at Mr. Wolfe’s office today and wanted to engage his services. He says that his sister—”
A door off to the right opened, and a young woman my age came stepping in, with papers in her hands. She was fair, with gray-green eyes, and as a spectacle there wasn’t a thing wrong with her, at a glance. Halfway across to the wheelchair she stopped and inquired, “Will you sign the letters now, Mr. Huck?”
“Later, Miss Riff.” He was a little crisp. “Later will do.”
“You said — I thought perhaps—”
“There’s no hurry.”
“Very well. I’m sorry if I interrupted.”
She turned and was gone, closing the door behind her so gently that there was no noise at all. I asked Huck, “That was Dorothy Riff?”
“Yes. Why?”