In the Best Families

Marko Vukcic, owner and operator of Rusterman's Restaurant, the only place where

Wolfe really liked to eat except at home, was the only man in New York who called Wolfe by his first name. I told him I would be glad to take a message for myself.

“Not from Nero actually, he said. “From me. I must see you as soon as possible.

Could you come here?

I said I could. There was no need to ask where, since the only place he could ever be found was the restaurant premises, either on one of the two floors for the public, in the kitchen, or up in his private quarters.

I told Fritz I was going out and would be back when he saw me.

As I drove crosstown and up to Fifty-fourth Street, I was around eighty per cent sure that within a few minutes I would be talking with Wolfe. For him it would be hard to beat that for a foxhole-the place that cooked and served the best food in America, with the living quarters of his best and oldest friend above it. Even after I had entered at the side door, as arranged, ascended the two flights of stairs, seen the look on Marko's face as he welcomed me, felt the tight clasp of his fingers as he took my hands in his, and heard his murmured

“My friend, my poor young friend!-even then I thought he was only preparing dramatically to lead me to Wolfe in an inner room.

But he wasn't. All he led me to was a chair by a window. He took another one, facing me, and sat with his palms on his knees, his head cocked a little to one side as usual.

“My friend Archie, he said sympathetically. “It is my part to tell you exactly certain things. But before I do that I wish to tell you a thing of my own. I wish to remind you that I have known Nero a much longer time than you have. We knew each other as boys in another country-much younger than you were that day many years ago when you first saw him and went to work for him. He is my old and dear friend, and I am his. So it was natural that he should come to me last night.

“Sure, I agreed. “Why not?

“You must feel no pique. No courroux?

“Okay. I'll fight it down. What time did he come?

“At two o'clock in the night. He was here an hour, and then left. That I am to tell you, and these things. Do you want to write them down?

“I can remember them if you can. Shoot.

Marko nodded. “I know of your great memory. Nero has often spoken of it. He shut his eyes and in a moment opened them again. “There are these five things.