I shrugged. “So you ask for it, huh? Take his arms, Saul.”
I got his ankles, and we lugged him across to the opposite wall and put him down alongside a little stand that held a telephone. He started to wriggle around to prop himself against the wall, but I told Saul, “Keep him flat while I see if this phone’s connected,” and lifted the receiver and dialed a number. After only two whirrs a voice said, “Nero Wolfe speaking.”
“Archie. I’m just testing a phone.”
“It’s midnight. Where the devil are you?”
“We’re here together, all four of us, operating a garage on Tenth Avenue. We have customers waiting, and I’m too busy to talk. You’ll hear from us later.”
“I’m going to bed.”
“Sure. Sleep tight.”
I cradled the receiver, lifted the instrument, slid the stand along the wall out of the way, put the instrument on the floor a foot from Egan’s shoulder as he lay, and called to Fred, “Bring that ball of cord.”
He came with it, asking, “The crisscross?”
“Right. A piece about eight feet long.”