Wolfe nodded. “I like this. There’s something about it I like. I may be wrong. Go, by all means.”

I shook my pants legs down, put the notebook and plant record away in the drawers, and got going. Johnny came to bolt the door behind me.

I hadn’t been on the sidewalk for nearly twenty hours, and it smelled good. I filled the chest, waved at Tony with a cart of coal across the street, and opened up my knees on the way to the garage. The roadster whinnied as I went up to it, and I circled down the ramp, scared the daylights out of a truck as I emerged, and headed downtown with my good humor coming in again at every pore. I doubt if anything could ever get me so low that it wouldn’t perk me up to get out and enjoy nature, anywhere between the two rivers from the Battery to i loth Street, but preferably below 59th.

I parked at the triangle and went in and took an elevator. They sent me right in to Cramer’s little inside room, but it was empty except for a clerk in uniform, and I sat down to wait. In a minute Cramer entered. I was thinking he might have the decency to act a little embarrassed, but he didn’t; be was chewing a cigar and he appeared hearty. He didn’t go to his desk, but stood there. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to rub it in, so I asked him, “Have you round Clara Fox yet?”

He shook his head. “Nope. No Clara Fox. But we will. We’ve got Mike Walsh.”

I lifted the brows. “You don’t say. Congratulations. Where’d you find him?”

He frowned down at me. “I’m not going to try to bluff you, Goodwin. It’s a waste of time. That’s what I asked you to come down here for, this Mike Walsh. You and Wolfe have been cutting it pretty thin up there, but if you help me out on this we’ll call it square. I want you to pick this Mike Walsh out for me. You won’t have to appear, you can look through the panel.”

“I don’t get you. I thought you said you had him.”

“Him hell.” Cramer bit his cigar. “I’ve got eight of ‘em.” “Oh.” I grinned at him sympathetically. “Think of that, eight Mike Walshes! It’s a good thing it wasn’t Bill Smith or Abe Cohen.”

“Will you pick him out?”

“I don’t like to.” I pulled a hesitation. “Why can’t the boys grind it out themselves?”

“Well, they can’t. We’ve got nothing at all to go on except that Harlan Scovil had his name on a piece of paper and he was at your place last night. We couldn’t use a hose on all eight of them even if we were inclined that way– The last one was brought in less than an hour ago, and he’s worse than any of the others. He’s a night watchman and he’s seventy if he’s a day, and he says who he knows or doesn’t know is none of our damn business, and I’m inclined to believe him. Look here, Goodwin. This Walsh isn’t a client of Wolfe’s. You don’t owe him anything, and anyway we’re not going to hurt him unless he needs it. Come on and take a look and tell me if we’ve got him.”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry– It wouldn’t go with the program. I’d like to, but I can’t.”

Cramer took his cigar from his mouth and pointed it at me. “Once more I’m asking you. Will you do it?”

I just shook my head.

He walked around the desk to his chair and sat down. He looked at me as if he regretted something. Finally he said, “It’s too much, Goodwin. This time it’s too much. I’m going to have to put it on to you and Wolfe both for obstructing justice. It’s all set for a charge. Even if I hated to worse than I do, I’ve got upstairs to answer to.”

He pushed a button on his desk. I said, “Go ahead. Then, pretty soon, go ahead and regret it for a year or two and maybe longer.”

The door opened and a gumshoe came in. Cramer turned to him. “You’ll have to turn ‘em loose. Nick. Put shadows on all of them except the kid that goes to N. Y. U. and the radio singer. They’re out. Take good men. If one of them gets lost you’ve got addresses to pick him up again. Any more they pick up, I’ll see them after you’ve got a record down.”

“Yes, sir. The one from Brooklyn, the McGrue Club guy, is raising hell.”

“All right. Let him out. I’ll phone McGrue later.”

The gumshoe departed. Cramer tried to get his cigar lit. I said, “And as far as upstairs is concerned, to hell with the Commissioner. How does he know whether or not it’s justice that Wolfe’s obstructing? How about that cripple Paul Chapin and that bird Bowen? Did he obstruct justice that time? If you ask me, I think you had a nerve to ask me to come down here. Are we interfering with your legal right to look for these babies? You even looked for one of them under Wolfe’s bed and under my bed. Do Wolfe and I wear badges, and do we line up on the first and fifteenth for a city check? We do not.”

Cramer puffed. “I ought to charge you.”

I lifted the shoulders and let them drop. “Sure. You’re just sore. That’s one way cops and newspaper reporters are all alike, they can’t bear to have anyone know anything they won’t tell.” I looked at my wrist watch and saw it was nearly two o’clock. “I’m hungry. Where do I eat, inside or out?”

Cramer said, “I don’t give a damn if you never eat. Beat it.”

I floated up and out, down the hall, down in the elevator, and back to the roadster. I looked around comprehensively, reflecting that within a radius of a few blocks eight Mike Walshes were scattering in all directions, six of them with tails, and that I would give at least two bits to know where one of them was headed for. But even if he had gone by my elbow that second I wouldn’t have dared to take it up, since that would have spotted him for them, so I hopped in the roadster and swung north.

When I got back to the house Wolfe and Clara Fox were in the dining room, sitting with their coffee. They were so busy they only had time to toss me a nod, and I sat down at my end of the table and Fritz brought me a plate. She had on my dressing gown, with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of Fritz’s slippers with her ankles bare. Wolfe was reciting Hungarian poetry to her, a line at a time, and she was repeating it after him; and he was trying not to look pleased as she leaned forward with an ear cocked at him and her eyes on his lips, asking as if she were really interested, “Say it again, slower, please do.”

The yellow dressing gown wasn’t bad on her, at that, but I was hungry.

I waded through a plate of minced lamb kidneys with green peppers, and a dish of endive, and as Fritz took the plate away and presented me with a hunk of pie I observed to the room, “If you’ve finished with your coffee and have any time to spare, you might like to hear a report.”

Wolfe sighed. “I suppose so. But not here.” He arose. “If Fritz could serve your coffee in the office? And you. Miss Fox … upstairs.”

“Oh, my lord. Must I dig in again?”

“Of course. Until dinner time.” He bowed, meaning that he inclined his head two inches, and went off.

Clara Fox got up and walked to my end. “I’ll pour your coffee.”

“All right. Black and two lumps.”

She screwed up her face. “With all this grand cream here? Very well. You know, Mr. Goodwin, this house represents the most insolent denial of female rights the mind of man has ever conceived. No woman in it from top to bottom, but the routine is faultless, the food is perfect, and the sweeping and dusting are impeccable. I have never been a housewife, but I can’t overlook this challenge. I’m going to marry Mr. Wolfe, and I know a girl that will be just the thing for you, and of course our friends will be in and out a good deal. This place needs some upsetting.”

I looked at her. The hem of the yellow gown was trailing the floor. The throat of it was spreading open, and it was interesting to see where her shoulders came to and how the yellow made her hair look. I said, “You’ve already upset enough. Go upstairs and behave yourself. Wolfe has three wives and nineteen children in Turkey.”

“I don’t believe it. He has always hated women until he saw how nicely they pack in osmundine.”