“I’ll try. You might save time by telling me what you want to see him about.”
“I don’t know.” Her brow wrinkled. “Maybe I should. It’s something I’d like him to know—”
She turned at a noise. The butler was coming through the doorway.
“Yes, Turner?”
“I beg your pardon, Miss Dunn. Your father is expecting Mr. Goodwin upstairs.”
“They can wait a minute,” I said, “if you want—”
She shook her head. “No, it would be — tell him what I said. Will you?”
I said I would, and followed the butler. From the entrance hall he mounted a wide curving stairway, and in the upper corridor passed one door on the right and opened the second one. I went in. A glance showed me that this room was closer to my idea of what to do to keep in out of the rain if you have money. There were shelves with books on three sides, pictures of horses and dogs, a big roomy flat-top desk, plenty of comfortable chairs, and a radio. No one was at the desk. Nero Wolfe was holding down a brown leather chair with his back to a window. Mrs. John Charles Dunn was on the edge of another one. Standing between them was a tall stoop-shouldered guy in shirt sleeves, with harassed deep-set eyes and a wavy mane of hair turning gray. I would have recognized him immediately from pictures I had seen, and of course he was noted for shedding his coat and vest whenever circumstances permitted.
Wolfe grunted a greeting. June murmured at me and introduced me to her husband. Wolfe said:
“Sit down, Archie. I have explained your function to Mr. and Mrs. Dunn. Did Fred get into trouble again?”