“Nuts,” he said and lifted the glass to drink.
I swung the door to carelessly, without bothering to see that it latched, and yawned on the way back to my chair.
“At least,” Wolfe said, rubbing it in, “I can’t be jailed for harboring a fugitive — one of your favorite threats. But I really don’t know what you’re after. If it was those two you’ll get them, of course. What else is there?”
“Nothing but a little more evidence.” Cramer glanced at his wristwatch. “I’ll get down to my office. That’s where I started for, and this was on the way so I thought I’d stop to see what you had to say. We’ll get ’em all right. It don’t pay to kill a cop in this town.” He stood up. “It wouldn’t pay for anyone to hide a cop-killer in their front room, either. Thanks for the beer. I’ll be expecting those affidavits, and in case—”
The phone rang. I swiveled and got it. “Nero Wolfe’s office, Archie Goodwin speaking.”
“Inspector Cramer there?”
I said yes, hold it. “For you,” I told him and moved aside, and he came and took it. He spoke not more than twenty words altogether, between spells of listening. He dropped the phone onto the cradle, growled something about more trouble, and headed for the door.
“Have they found ’em?” I asked his back.
“No.” He didn’t turn. “Someone’s hurt-the Stahl girl.”
I marched after him, thinking the least I could do was cooperate by opening another door for him, but he was there and on out before I caught up, so I about-faced and returned to the office.