The connection went. I hung up and turned to Wolfe.
“Rectangle.”
“What?”
“That’s what he said, or rather squeaked. Just to tell you rectangle.”
“Ah.” Wolfe sat up and his eyes came clear open. “Get the national office of the Communist party, Algonquin four two two one five. I want Mr. Harvey or Mr. Stevens. Either one.”
I swiveled and dialed. In a moment a pleasant feminine voice was in my ear. Its being pleasant was a shock, and also I was a little self-conscious, conversing for the first time with a female Commie, so I said, “My name’s Goodwin, comrade. Is Mr. Harvey there? Mr. Nero Wolfe would like to speak to him.”
“You say Nero Wolfe?”
“Yes. A detective.”
“I’ve heard the name. I’ll see. Hold the wire.”
I waited. Accustomed to holding the wire while a switchboard girl or secretary saw, I leaned back and got comfortable, but it wasn’t long before a man told me he was Harvey. I signaled to Wolfe and stayed on myself.