“Then you’d better leave Mr. Wolfe to me.” I glanced at my wrist. “He’ll be coming down in three-quarters of an hour.” I left my chair. “I’ll take you up and leave you there, and when he comes down I’ll tackle him. With no tag on you it’s probably hopeless, but I may be able to persuade him to listen to you.” I picked up her jacket and turned. “It might help if he saw the cash. Sometimes the sight of money has an effect on people. Say three hundred and fifty, as you suggested? With the understanding, of course, that it’s not a deal until Mr. Wolfe accepts it.”
Her fingers were quick and accurate as they ticked off seven new fifties from the stack she got from her purse. She had enough left. I stuck our share in my pocket, went to the hall for the suitcase and hatbox, and led the way up the stairs, two flights. The door to the south room was standing open. Inside I put the luggage down, went and pulled the cords of the Venetian blinds for light, and cranked a window open.
She stood, taking a look around. “It’s a big room,” she said approvingly. She lifted a hand as if to touch my sleeve, but let it drop. “I appreciate this, Mr. Goodwin.”
I grunted. I was not prepared to get on terms with her. Putting the suitcase on the rack at the foot of one of the twin beds, and the hatbox on a chair, I told her, “I’ll have to watch you unpack these.”
Her eyes widened. “Watch me? Why?”
“For the kick.” I was slightly exasperated. “There are at least a thousand people in the metropolitan area who think Nero Wolfe has lived long enough, and one or more of them might have decided to take a hand. His room, as you apparently know, is directly below this. What I expect to find is a brace and bit in the suitcase and a copperhead or rattler in the hatbox. Are they locked?”
She regarded me to see if I was kidding, decided I wasn’t, and stepped over and opened the suitcase. I was right there. On top was a blue silk negligee, which she lifted and put on the bed.
“For the kick,” she said indignantly.
“It hurts me worse than it does you,” I assured her. “Just pretend I’m not here.”
I’m not a lingerie expert, but I know what I like, and that was quite a collection. There was one plain white folded garment, sheer as gossamer, with the finest mesh I had ever seen. As she put it on the bed I asked politely, “Is that a blouse?”