The Mother Hunt (Rex Stout Library)

Her head was tilted back. It didn't take you long. How did you do it?' Trade secret. I'm not supposed to tell a client about an operation until I have reported to Mr. Wolfe. But they took it fine. You still have a maid and a cook. If we get any ideas I may phone you in the morning.

I'm going to have a martini. Won't you? Or what?

Having looked at my watch as I left the kitchen, and knowing that Wolfe's afternoon session with the orchids would keep him up in the plant rooms until six o'clock, and remembering that one of my functions was to understand any woman we were dealing with, and seeing that the gin was Follansbee's, I thought I might as well be sociable. I offered to make, saying I favored five to one, and she said all right. When I had made and served and sat, on the couch beside her, and we had sampled, she said, I want to try something. You take a sip of mine and I'll take a sip of yours. Do you mind?

Of course I didn't, since the idea was to understand her. She held her glass for me to sip, and I held mine for her.

Actually, I said, this good gin is wasted on me. I just had a glass of milk.

She didn't hear me. She didn't even know I had spoken. She was looking at me but not seeing me. How was I to understand that? Not wanting to sit and stare at her, I moved my eyes to her shoulder and arm, which weren't really skinny.

I don't know why I suddenly wanted to do that, she said. I haven't done it since Dick died. I've never done it with anybody but him. All of a sudden I knew I had to try it, I don't know why.

It seemed advisable to keep it professional, and the simplest way was to bring Wolfe in. Mr. Wolfe says, I told her, that nobody ever gets to the real why of anything.

She smiled. And upstairs, when you were looking at the baby, I nearly called you Archie. I'm not trying to flirt with you. I don't know how to flirt. I don't suppose. You're not a hypnotist, are you?

I sipped the martini. What the hell, I said. Relax. Exchanging sips is an old Persian custom. As for calling me Archie, that's my name. Don't call me Svengali. As for flirting, let's discuss it. Men and women flirt. Horses flirt. Parakeets flirt. Undoubtedly oysters flirt, but they must have some special I stopped because she was moving. She left the couch, went and put the glass, still half full, on the bar, turned, and said. Don't forget the suitcase when you go, and walked out.