CHAPTER Two

A couple of hours later, at five to two, Wolfe returned his empty coffee cup to the saucer, pushed his chair back, got all of him upright, walked out of the dining-room, and headed down the hall toward his elevator. I, having followed, called to his half an acre of back, “How about three minutes in the office first?” He turned. “I thought you were going to see that man with a daughter.” “I am, but you won't talk business during meals, and I read Bascom's reports, and I've got questions.” He was stuck, because it was only one fifty-seven and his sacred schedule didn't justify his departure for the plant rooms for three minutes yet. But he shot a glance at the door to the office, saw how far away it was, growled, “All right, come on up,” and turned and made for the elevator.

If he has his rules, so do I, and one of mine is that a three-by-four private elevator with Wolfe in it does not need me too, so I took the stairs. One flight up was Wolfe's bedroom and a spare. Two flights up was my bedroom and another spare. The third flight put me on the roof. There was no dazzling blaze of light, as in winter, since this was June and the shade slats were all rolled down, but there was a blaze of colour from the summer bloomers, especially in the middle room. Of course I saw it every day, and I had business on my mind, but even so I slowed up as I passed a bench of white and yellow Dendrobium bensoniae that were just at their peak.