Rusterman’s, where they call it
ris de veau amandine
, and Fritz’s isalways better. I know I haven’t got Wolfe’s palate. I know it because he has told me.
After lunch you might have thought we were back to normal. Theodore brought down a batch of statistics on germination and performance, and I entered them on the file cards. Week in and week out, that routine, about two per cent of which—the few he sells—applies to income and the rest to outgo, takes, on an average, about a third of my time. Wolfe, after listening to my reports on my morning’s research, which contributed absolutely nothing, worked hard at comparing Fitzgerald’s
Iliad
with the three other translations he brought over from the shelf. That was risky because they were on a high shelf and he had to use the stool. On the dot at four o’clock he left for the plant rooms. You might have thought we hadn’t a care in the world. There hadn’t been a peep from the members of the family. Wolfe hadn’t even glanced at Herblock’s
Special Report
. The only flaw was that when I finished typing the letters my legs and lungs wanted to go for a walk, and Saul and Fred and Orrie didn’t have walkie-talkies.
At six o’clock the sound came of the elevator complaining as it started down, but it only lasted four seconds. He had stopped off for a look at the South Room, which he hadn’t seen since one-thirty Tuesday morning. It was a good ten minutes before it started again, so he gave the ruins more than a glance. When he came and crossed to his desk and got settled, he said my guess of fifteen hundred dollars was probably too low with the bloated prices of everything from sugar to shingles, and I said I was glad to hear him having fun with words, tossing off an alliteration with two words that weren’t spelled the same. He said it had beencasual, which was a lie, and started reading and signing the letters. He always reads them, not to catch errors, because he knows there won’t be any, but to let me know that if I ever make one it will be spotted.
It was ten minutes to seven and I was sealing the envelopes when the phone rang and I got it.
“Nero Wolfe’s residence, Archie Goodwin speaking.” Up to six o’clock it’s “office.” After six, “residence.” I don’t want people to think my nose is on the grindstone. Most offices close at five.
“May I speak to Mr. Wolfe, please? My name is Roman
Vilar
. V-I-L-A-R.”
I covered the mouthpiece and turned. “Fred has flushed one. Roman Vilar, euphemistic security. He asks permission to speak to Mr. Wolfe, please. Only he makes it Vi-
lar
.”
“Indeed.” Wolfe reached for his receiver. I kept mine.
“Nero Wolfe speaking.”
“This is Roman Vilar, Mr. Wolfe. You have never heard of me, but of course I have heard of you. But that isn’t correct—you
have
heard of me, or at least your man Goodwin has. Yesterday, from Benjamin Igoe.”
“Yes. Mr. Goodwin has told me.”
“Of course. And he told you what Mr. Igoe told him. Of course. And Mr. Igoe has told me what he told Goodwin. I have told others, and they are here with me now in my apartment. Mr. Igoe and four others. May I ask a question?”
“Yes. I may answer it.”
“Thank you. Have you told the police or the District Attorney what Mr. Igoe told Goodwin?”
“No.”
“Thank you. Do you intend to? No, I withdraw that.I can’t expect you to tell me what you intend to do. We have been discussing the situation, and one of us was going to go and discuss it with you, but we decided we would all like to be present. Of course not now—it’s your dinnertime, or soon will be. Would nine o’clock be convenient?”
“Here. At my office.”
“Certainly.”
“You know the address.”
“Certainly.”
“You said four others. Who are they?”
“You have their names. Mr. Igoe gave them to Goodwin.”
“Yes. We’ll expect you at nine o’clock.”
Wolfe hung up. So did I.
“I want a raise,” I said. “Beginning
ris de veau amandine
, and Fritz’s isalways better. I know I haven’t got Wolfe’s palate. I know it because he has told me.
After lunch you might have thought we were back to normal. Theodore brought down a batch of statistics on germination and performance, and I entered them on the file cards. Week in and week out, that routine, about two per cent of which—the few he sells—applies to income and the rest to outgo, takes, on an average, about a third of my time. Wolfe, after listening to my reports on my morning’s research, which contributed absolutely nothing, worked hard at comparing Fitzgerald’s
Iliad
with the three other translations he brought over from the shelf. That was risky because they were on a high shelf and he had to use the stool. On the dot at four o’clock he left for the plant rooms. You might have thought we hadn’t a care in the world. There hadn’t been a peep from the members of the family. Wolfe hadn’t even glanced at Herblock’s
Special Report
. The only flaw was that when I finished typing the letters my legs and lungs wanted to go for a walk, and Saul and Fred and Orrie didn’t have walkie-talkies.
At six o’clock the sound came of the elevator complaining as it started down, but it only lasted four seconds. He had stopped off for a look at the South Room, which he hadn’t seen since one-thirty Tuesday morning. It was a good ten minutes before it started again, so he gave the ruins more than a glance. When he came and crossed to his desk and got settled, he said my guess of fifteen hundred dollars was probably too low with the bloated prices of everything from sugar to shingles, and I said I was glad to hear him having fun with words, tossing off an alliteration with two words that weren’t spelled the same. He said it had beencasual, which was a lie, and started reading and signing the letters. He always reads them, not to catch errors, because he knows there won’t be any, but to let me know that if I ever make one it will be spotted.
It was ten minutes to seven and I was sealing the envelopes when the phone rang and I got it.
“Nero Wolfe’s residence, Archie Goodwin speaking.” Up to six o’clock it’s “office.” After six, “residence.” I don’t want people to think my nose is on the grindstone. Most offices close at five.
“May I speak to Mr. Wolfe, please? My name is Roman
Vilar
. V-I-L-A-R.”
I covered the mouthpiece and turned. “Fred has flushed one. Roman Vilar, euphemistic security. He asks permission to speak to Mr. Wolfe, please. Only he makes it Vi-
lar
.”
“Indeed.” Wolfe reached for his receiver. I kept mine.
“Nero Wolfe speaking.”
“This is Roman Vilar, Mr. Wolfe. You have never heard of me, but of course I have heard of you. But that isn’t correct—you
have
heard of me, or at least your man Goodwin has. Yesterday, from Benjamin Igoe.”
“Yes. Mr. Goodwin has told me.”
“Of course. And he told you what Mr. Igoe told him. Of course. And Mr. Igoe has told me what he told Goodwin. I have told others, and they are here with me now in my apartment. Mr. Igoe and four others. May I ask a question?”
“Yes. I may answer it.”
“Thank you. Have you told the police or the District Attorney what Mr. Igoe told Goodwin?”
“No.”
“Thank you. Do you intend to? No, I withdraw that.I can’t expect you to tell me what you intend to do. We have been discussing the situation, and one of us was going to go and discuss it with you, but we decided we would all like to be present. Of course not now—it’s your dinnertime, or soon will be. Would nine o’clock be convenient?”
“Here. At my office.”
“Certainly.”
“You know the address.”
“Certainly.”
“You said four others. Who are they?”
“You have their names. Mr. Igoe gave them to Goodwin.”
“Yes. We’ll expect you at nine o’clock.”
Wolfe hung up. So did I.
“I want a raise,” I said. “Beginning
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