The Father Hunt

"Then I won't," I said, and left them. It would take Saul about five minutes to get acquainted with her.

There had been one big danger. A man of Jarrett's position, financially and otherwise, might be able to put enough pressure on someone like the Police Commissioner or the Mayor or the New York Secretary of State, who issues private investigator licenses, to gag us. I blamed that fact, which had been on my mind ever since Jarrett had hung up, for something that had happened Thurs-

day evening, when I had let Lon Cohen rake in a fat pot without showing, though it was at least three to two that my tens would have taken it. But now, as eleven o'clock came closer and closer, that danger got slimmer and slimmer, and it looked surer and surer that Jarrett's tie-in was so very personal that he couldn't risk it.

Wolfe came down at eleven on the dot, put the daily display in the vase on his desk, sat, and went at the morning mail. I had the expense book at my desk, checking entries and additions and getting totals, on the theory that they were final totals, except for Saul today. Just a pair of private detectives starting the daily grind, yeah. The reason they weren't holding their breath was that a man can't hold his breath more than about two minutes, and the doorbell didn't ring until a quarter past eleven.

The first two things I noticed when I opened the front door were that the car Jarrett had come in was a Heron town car, and that his eyes were exactly the same as they had been two weeks ago. I felt that I deserved a credit mark for the way I said, "Good morning." I could have made it a jab or even a jeer, but I swear it was just a cordial welcome.

He also said, "Good morning," but it wasn't a cordial anything. It was probably merely the way he had always said good morning, and always would, to everybody from the office boy to the senior vice-president. What was different from before was his walk as he went down the hall to the office. He didn't totter, but his steps were short and he made sure of each one before he took the next one. I waited until he had got safely lowered into the red leather chair to say, "Mr. Jarrett. Mr. Wolfe."

Jarrett said, "A footstool and a glass of water."