“Is Prescott badly hurt?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Bring him here.”
“What about Cramer? His car’s out front with two dicks.”
“That’s all right. We are co-operating with the police.”
“Oh. Goody.”
I hung up and turned to Prescott. “Inspector Cramer is in Nero Wolfe’s office and wants to see you. We’re going to put you on your feet and help you downstairs.”
He moaned. “But I may be injured — it may be dangerous—”
“I don’t think so. We’ll see if you can stand up. Here, Fred.”
We got him erect without anything breaking. From the way he groaned you might have thought he wasn’t worth bothering with, but after we stood him up I tried his pulse and it was as good as mine. So we walked him and let him groan. When we got him down to the ground floor we sat him on a step and I went out and moved the roadster to the curb in front. Then we took him out and hoisted him in, and I climbed in behind the wheel and told Fred to hop in the rumble seat.