Prisoner's Base

That settled it. Hagh wanted him to take a look at the precious document, and Irby was too damn stubborn to give in without a couple more tries, but that was all. They could have saved their breath. I went to the hall with them and was disappointed again when Hagh, who was younger, bigger, and stronger than Irby, insisted on carrying both the bag and the suitcase. I kept looking for little points to score against him, and he kept double-crossing me.

I went to the kitchen and told Fritz there would be nine guests instead of seven. But as it turned out that was not the final figure. Some four hours later, when I was up in my room changing my shirt and tie in honor of the approaching soiree, the doorbell rang, and a minute later Fritz called up that a man on the stoop who refused to give his name wanted to see me. I finished my grooming and descended and came upon a tableau. Fritz was at the front door, peering at the fastening of the chain bolt. Out on the stoop, visible through the one-way glass, was Andreas Hercules Fomos, glaring angrily at the crack which the bolt and chain were holding the door to, his posture indicating that he was making some kind of muscular effort.

"He's pushing at it," Fritz told me.

I walked to him and called through the crack, "You'll never make it, son. I'm Goodwin. What do you want?"

"I can't see you plain." His voice was even gruffer and deeper than when he had been on the inside talking out. "I want in."

"So did I, and what did I get? What do you want? That's twice, so I have one coming. You asked me three times."

"I could break your neck, Goodwin!"

"Then you'll never get in. I use my neck. What do you want? Now we're even."

A voice came at me from behind. "What is all this uproar?"

Wolfe had emerged from the office and was advancing, which wasn't as impetuous as it might have seemed. It was close to dinnertime, and he would soon have had to mobilize himself anyhow. Fritz trotted off toward the kitchen, where something was probably reaching its climax.

I told Wolfe, "It's Andy Fomos, who ruined a shoe for me yesterday." I told the crack, "In ten seconds we close the door the rest of the way, and don't think we can't."

"What you told me yesterday!" he bellowed.

"What? Do you mean about Priscilla Eads going to make your wife a director of Softdown?"