The Rubber Band

It was ten o'clock when Hilda Lindquist arrived. There was a man with her, but when I told him Saul wasn't there he didn't come in. I told him Saul would fix it with him and he beat it. Hilda's square face and brown dress didn't look any the worse for wear during the twenty-four hours since she had gone off, but her eyes were solemn and determined. She said of course the thing was all off, since they had caught the Marquis of Clivers and he would be executed for murder, and her father would be disappointed because he was old and they would lose the farm, and would she be able to get her bag which she had left at the hotel, and she would like to start for home as soon as there was a train. I told her to drive in and park a while, there was still some fireworks left in the bag, but by the way she turned her eyes on me I saw that she might develop into a real problem, so I put her in the front room and asked her to wait a minute.

I ran up to the south room and said to Clara Fox, "Hilda Lindquist is downstairs and I'm going to send her up. She thinks the show is over and she has to go back home to her poor old dad with her sock empty, and by the look in her eye it will take more than British diplomacy to keep her off of the next train. Nero Wolfe is going to work this out. I don't know how and maybe he don't either this minute, but he'll do it. Nero Wolfe is probably even better than I think he is, and that's a mouthful. You wrote the music for this piece, and half your band has been killed, and it's up to you to keep the other half intact. Well?"

I had found her sitting in a chair with her lips compressed tight and her hands clenched. She looked at me, "All right. I will. Send her up here."

"She can sleep in here with you, or in the room in front on this floor. You know how to ring for Fritz."

"All right."

I went down and told Squareface that Clara Fox wanted to speak to her, and shooed her up, and heard them exchanging greetings in the upper hall.