“Yes, sir.”
“What the devil are you doing? Come back up here!”
“Pretty soon. I’m talking with a prospective client—”
“This is no time for clients! Come at once!”
The connection went. He had slammed it down. I hung up and went back to the prospective client. “Mr. Wolfe wants me upstairs. He didn’t stop to think in time that the Manhattan Flower Club has women in it as well as men. Do you want to wait here?”
“Yes.”
“If Mrs. Orwin asks about you?”
“I didn’t feel well and went home.”
“Okay. I shouldn’t be long — the invitations said two-thirty to five. If you want a drink, help yourself. What name does this murderer use when he goes to look at orchids?”
She looked blank. I got impatient.