The Mother Hunt (Rex Stout Library)

All right, I said, I listened, now it's your turn. I know less about buttons than any man in the world. In connection with a case I'm working on I need to know where those overalls came from. Since they're a standard product, sold everywhere, they can't be traced, but it seemed to me that the buttons are not standard and might be traced. That's what I'm trying to find out, where they came from. Apparently you can't tell me.

I admit I can't!

Okay. Obviously you know about unusual buttons, rare buttons. Do you also know about ordinary commercial buttons?

I know about all buttons!

And you have never seen buttons like these or heard of any?

No! I admit it!

Fine. I reached to a pocket for my wallet; extracted five twenties, and put them on the table. You haven't answered my question, but you've been a big help. Is there any chance that those buttons were made by a machine?

No. Impossible. Someone spent hours on each one. It's a technique I have never seen.

What are they made of? What material?

That may be difficult. It may take some time. I may be able to tell you by tomorrow afternoon.

I can't wait that long. I reached for the overalls, but he didn't turn loose.

I'd rather have the buttons than the money, he said. Or just one of them. You don't need all four.

I had to yank to get the overalls. With them back in the bag, I stood. You've saved me a lot of time and trouble, I told him, and I'd like to show my appreciation. If and when I'm through with the buttons I'll donate one or more of them to your collection, and I'll tell you where they came from. I hope.

It took me five minutes to get away and out. I didn't want to be rude. He was probably the only button fiend in America, and I had been lucky enough to hit him before lunch.

A question about lunch was in my mind as I left the building. It was ten minutes past noon. Did Nathan Hirsh lunch early or late? Since I could walk it in twelve minutes I decided not to take time to phone, and again I was lucky. As I entered the anteroom of the Hirsh Laboratories on the tenth floor of a building on 43rd Street, Hirsh himself entered from within, on his way out, and when I told him I had something from Nero Wolfe that shouldn't wait he took me in and down the hall to his room. A few years back, the publicity from his testimony in court on one of Wolfe's cases hadn't hurt his business a bit.

I produced the overalls and said, One simple little question. What are the buttons made of?