“I beg your pardon? Oh, quite. Lord Clivers would like to know if Mr. Wolfe could call at his hotel. An hour can be arranged—”

“I can save you breath on that. Mr. Wolfe never calls on anybody.”

“No?” His brows went up. “He is not—that is, bedridden?”

“Nope, only house-ridden. He doesn’t like it outdoors. He never has called on anybody and never will.”

“You don’t say.” His forehead showed wrinkles. “Well. Lord Clivers wishes very much to see him. You say you wrote that letter?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I know all about it. I suppose Mr. Wolfe would be glad to talk with the marquis on the telephone—”

“He prefers not to discuss it on the telephone.”

“Okay. I was going to add, or the marquis can come here. Of course the legal part of it is being handled by our attorney.”

The young diplomat sat straight with his arms folded and looked at me.

“You have engaged a solicitor?”

“Certainly. If it comes to a lawsuit, which we hope it won’t, we don’t want to waste any time. We understand the marquis will be in New York another week, so we’d have to be ready to serve him at once.”

He nodded. “Just so. That’s a bit candid.” He bit his lip and cocked his head a little. “We appear to have reached a dead end. Your position seems quite clear. I shall report it, that’s all I can do.” He hitched his feet back and cleared his throat. “Now, if you don’t mind, I assume my private capacity. I remarked that I am here personally. My name is Francis Horrocks.”

“Yeah. Your personal name.”

“Just so. And I would like to speak with Miss Fox. Miss Clara Fox.” I felt myself straightening out my face and hoped he didn’t see me. I said, “I can’t say I blame you. I’ve met Miss Fox. Go to it.”

He frowned. “If you would be so good as to tell her I am here. It’s quite all right. I know she’s having a spot of seclusion, but it’s quite all right. Really. You see, when she telephoned me this morning I insisted on knowing the address of her retreat. In fact, I pressed her on it. I confess she laid it on me not to come here to see her, but I made no commitment. Also, I didn’t come to see her; I came semi-omcially. What? Being here, I ask to see her, which is quite all right. What?”

My face was under control after the first shock. I said, “Sure it’s quite all right. I mean, to ask. Seeing her is something else. You must have got the address wrong or maybe you were phoning in your sleep.”

“Oh, no. Really.” He folded his arms again. “See here, Mr. Goodwin, let’s cut across. It’s a fact, I actually must see Miss Fox. As a friend, you understand. For purely personal reasons. I’m quite determined about this.”

“Okay. Find her. She left no address here.”

He shook his head patiently. “It won’t do, I assure you it won’t. She telephoned me. Is she in distress? I don’t know. I shall have to see her. If you will tell her—”

I stood up. “Sorry, Mr. Horrocks. Do you really have to go? I hope you find Miss Fox. Tell the Marquis of Clivers—”

He sat tight, shook his head again, and frowned. “Damn it all. I dislike this, really. I’ve never set eyes on you before. What? I’ve never seen this Mr. Wolfe. Could Miss Fox have been under duress when she was telephoning? You see the possibility, of course. Setting my mind at rest and all that. If you put me out, it will really be necessary for me to tell those policemen outside that Miss Fox telephoned me from this address at nine o’clock this morning. Also I should have to take the precaution of finding a telephone at once to repeat the information to your police headquarters. What?”

I stared down at him, and I admit he was too much for me. Whether he was deep and desperate or dumb and determined I didn’t know. I said, “Wait here. Mr. Wolfe will have to know about you. Kindly stay in this room.”

I left him there and went to the kitchen and told Fritz to stand in the hall, and if an Englishman emerged from the office, yodel. Then I bounced up two Sights to the south room, called not too loud, and, when I heard the key rum, opened the door and entered. Clara Fox stood and brushed her hair back and looked at me half alarmed and half hopeful.

I said, “What time this morning did you phone that guy Francis Horrocks?”

She stared. It got her. She swallowed. “But I—he—he promised …”

“So you did phone him. Swell. You forgot to mention it when I asked you about it a while ago.”

“But you didn’t ask me if I had phoned.”

“Oh, didn’t I? Now that was careless.” I threw up my hands. “To hell with it. Suppose you tell me what you phoned him about. I hope it wasn’t a secret.”

“No, it wasn’t.” She came a step to me. “Must you be so sarcastic? There was nothing … it was just personal.”

“As for instance?”

“Why, it was really nothing. Of course, he sent those roses. Then … I had had an engagement to dine with him Monday evening, and when I made the appointment with Mr. Wolfe I had to cancel the one with Mr. Horrocks, and when he insisted I thought that three hours would be enough with Mr. Wolfe, so I told Mr. Horrocks I would go with him at ten o’clock to dance somewhere, and probably he went to the apartment and waited around there I don’t know how long, and this morning I supposed he would keep phoning there and of course there would be no answer, and he couldn’t get me at the office either, and besides, I hadn’t thanked him for the roses—”

I put up a palm. “Take a breath. I see, romance. It’d be still more romantic if he came to visit you in jail. You’re quite an adventuress, being as you are over ninety per cent nincompoop. I don’t suppose you know that according to an article in yesterday’s Times this Horrocks is the nephew of the Marquis of Clivers and next in line for the title.”

“Oh, yes. He explained to me … that is … that’s all right. I knew that.And Mr. Goodwin, I don’t like—”

“We’ll discuss your likes later. Here’s something you don’t know. Horrocks is downstairs in the office saying that he’s got to see you or he’ll run and get the police.”

“What! He isn’t.”

“Yep. Somebody is, and from his looks I’m willing to admit it’s Horrocks.”

“But he shouldn’t … he promised … send him away!”

“He won’t go away. If I throw him out he’ll yell for a cop. He thinks you’re here under duress and need to be rescued—that’s his story. You’re a swell client, you are. With the chances Nero Wolfe’s taking for you—all right. Anyhow, whether he’s straight or not, there’s no way out of it now. I’m going to bring him up here, and for God’s sake make it snappy and let him go back to his uncle.”

“But I-good heavens!” She brushed her hair back. “I don’t want to see him. Not now. Tell him … of course I could … yes, that’s it… I’ll go down and just tell him—”

“You will not. Next you’ll be wanting to go and walk around the block with him. You stay here.”

Outside in the hall I hesitated, uncertain whether to go up and tell Wolfe of the party we were having, but decided there was no point in riling him– I went back down, tossing Fritz a nod as I passed by, and found the young diplomat sitting in the office with his arms sdll folded. He put his brows up at me. I told him to come on, and let him go first. Behind him on the stairs I noticed he had good springs in his legs, and at the top his air pump hadn’t speeded up any. Keeping fit for dear old England and the bloody empire. I opened the door and bowed him in and followed him.

Clara Fox came across to him. He looked at her with a kind of sickening grin and put out his hand. She shook her head. “No. I won’t shake hands with you. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? You promised me you wouldn’t. Causing Mr. Goodwin all this trouble …”

“Now, really. I say.” His voice was different from what it had been downstairs, sort of sweet and concentrated. Silly as hell. “After all, you know, it was fairly alarming … with you gone and all that … couldn’t find a trace of you … and you look frightful, very bad in the eyes …”