“I’ll let you know before bedtime,” she said firmly, and walked out of the room.
Chapter 8
More than four hours later, at nine o’clock in the evening, Wolfe yawned so wide I thought something was going to give.
We were in the room where I had slept Saturday night, if it can be called sleep when a dose of dope has knocked you out. Immediately after Gwenn had ended the session in the library by beating it, Wolfe had asked where he could go to take a nap, and Mrs. Sperling had suggested that room. When I steered him there he went straight to one of the three-quarter beds and tested it, pulled the coverlet off, removed his coat and vest and shoes, lay down, and in three minutes was breathing clear to China. I undressed the other bed to get a blanket to put over him, quit trying to fight temptation, and followed his example.
When we were called to dinner at seven o’clock I was conscripted for courier duty, to tell Mrs. Sperling that under the circumstances Mr. Wolfe and I would prefer either to have a sandwich upstairs or go without, and it was a pleasure to see how relieved she was. But even in the middle of that crisis she didn’t let her household suffer shame, and instead of a sandwich we got jellied consommé, olives and cucumber rings, hot roast beef, three vegetables, lettuce and tomato salad, cold pudding with nuts in it, and plenty of coffee. It was nothing to put in your scrapbook, but was more than adequate, and except for the jellied consommé, which he hates, and the salad dressing, which he made a face at, Wolfe handled his share without comment.
I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had had me take him home as soon as the library party was over, but neither was I surprised that he was staying. The show that he had put on for them hadn’t been a show at all. He had meant every word of it, and I had meant it along with him. That being so, it was no wonder that he wanted the answer as soon as it was available, and besides, he would be needed if Gwenn had questions to ask or conditions to offer. Not only that, if Gwenn said nothing doing I don’t think he would have gone home at all. There would have been a lot of arranging to do with Sperling, and when we finally got away from Stony Acres we wouldn’t have been headed for Thirty-fifth Street but for a foxhole.
At nine o’clock, after admiring Wolfe’s yawn, I looked around for an excuse to loosen up my muscles, saw the coffee tray, which had been left behind when the rest of the dinner remains had been called for, and decided that would do. I got it and took it downstairs. When I delivered it to the kitchen there was no one around and, feeling in need of a little social contact, I did a casual reconnoiter. I tried the library first. The door to it was open and Sperling was there, at his desk, looking over some papers. When I entered he honored me with a glance but no words.
After I had stood a moment I informed him, “We’re upstairs hanging on.”
“I know it,” he said without looking up.
He seemed to think that completed the conversation, so I retired. The living room was uninhabited, so when I stepped out to the west terrace no one was to be seen or heard. The game room, which was down a flight, was dark, and the lights I turned on disclosed no fellow beings. So I went back upstairs and reported to Wolfe.