Wolfe had his lips compressed. “I hate to waste Saul—” He shrugged. “It can’t be helped. What time is it?”
“Five after five. Would you care to go into the matter of the duplicate Daisy?”
“Not now. Mr. Prescott wants to see me. First some beer. Then see if Miss Karn is still down there, and who is with her. Then Mr. Prescott.”
I trotted out and descended to the main floor. There was no one around the entrance hall, so I opened a door leading to the rear of the house and yelled, “Turner!” In a moment a maid appeared and said he was upstairs, and I said all I wanted was to order three bottles of beer for Mr. Wolfe in the library. Then I proceeded to the living room for a glimpse of Naomi Karn.
But I didn’t get it. She was absent. The only person in the room was a man of about my build, pacing up and down with his fists making his pockets bulge. I stopped short and regarded him with surprise. He had put his pants on, but I recognized him anyway.
I said, “Hello.”
He quit pacing and scowled at me. Before he said a word I knew exactly the condition he was in, more from observation than from personal experience. You drink all night, and pass out, and someone takes you home and drops you on a bed. When you come to, there is no telling what day it is or when they started running the subway inside your head or how many people came to your funeral. But something drastic must be done immediately. You get your pants and shoes on and fight your way to the street and along to and into a place, order a double Scotch and gulp it down, spilling maybe a quarter of it. You spill much less of the second one, and by the time the third one comes along you have nearly stopped trembling and you don’t waste a drop. Then, while you still are not quite ready to tell the date on a calendar, you have a strong impression that you are prepared to cope with whatever it is that requires coping, and off you go.
“Who are you?” he demanded, in a voice that made me afraid he would strip his gears. “I want Glenn Prescott.”
“Yes, sir,” I said ingratiatingly. “I know you do. If you will come this way, please.”
“I’m not coming that way or any other way.” He planted himself. His fists were still bulging in his pockets. “He can come here. You can go and tell him—”