The Doorbell Rang (The Rex Stout Library)

To get to the phone at my desk I had to give them my back. I did, and as I reached for the phone he snapped, "Cut the comedy, Goodwin. You know damn well what we are." He turned to Wolfe. "We're agents of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and you know it. We have touched nothing, and we didn't intend to. We wanted to see you. When we rang there was no answer, and the door wasn't locked, and we came in."

"You lie," Wolfe said, just stating a fact. "Five men will swear that the door was locked and you didn't ring. Four of them heard you picking it. When you are searched, by the police, your tools will be found. Federal Bureau of Investigation? Pfui. Get the police, Archie, and tell them to send men capable of handling a pair of ruffians."

Before I turned to dial I said, "Fred," and bent a finger at him, and he came. Passing them, he barely gave them elbow room.

He had once had an arm twisted by a G-man, and he would have welcomed a chance to even up. With the backs of his thighs against Wolfe's desk, facing them, his gun at his hip, he looked much nastier than he actually is. He is really a nice guy, with a wife and four children. As I started dialing I would have given a hundred to one that I wouldn't finish, and I didn't. At the fourth whirl Handsome blurted, "Hold it, Goodwin," and I stopped my finger and turned. He was slipping his left hand inside his coat. I cradled the phone and moved beside Fred. The G-man's hand came out with his little black leather fold. "Credentials," he said, and opened it and displayed it.

That was the ticklish spot. They're supposed to show it but hang on to it. Wolfe growled, "I'll inspect it," and Handsome made a move forward, and Fred's big left hand shot out and shoved him back. I put a hand out, palm up, but said nothing. He hesitated, not long, and put it on my palm. I said, "You too," to Skinny and stretched my arm. He had his fold already out and put it on top of the other one, and I turned and handed them to Wolfe. He looked at one and then the other, opened a drawer and got his big glass, inspected them through the glass, taking his time, returned the glass to the drawer, dropped the folds in on top of it, shut the drawer, and regarded them.

"Probably forged," he said. "The police laboratory can tell."

It must have taken a lot of control for them to hold tight. I would have admired them if my mind hadn't been occupied. They both went stiff but they didn't move; then Skinny said, "You fat sonofabitch."