An hour later, around half past seven, Wolfe and I were alone in the office. He was behind his desk, with the atlas opened at the map of Australia, and every now and then he lifted his head to sniff. The turkey was broiling in the kitchen.

I reached for the phone and tried again, the third time, for Colonel Ryder at Governor’s Island. He wasn’t there but was expected back any minute.

“I would like to say,” I told Wolfe, “that you are wrong about Ann Amory being a sentimental imbecile for not telling the police as soon as she learned that Roy had killed Mrs. Leeds. I knew her and you didn’t. I doubt if she really knew Roy had done it, I mean actually saw it. My guess is she saw something that gave her a strong suspicion. She told Mrs. Chack about it, but Mrs. Chack talked her out of it.”

Wolfe muttered, “Imbecile.”

“No,” I said with conviction. “She was a damn good kid. I tell you I knew her. Mrs. Chack nearly talked her out of it, but not quite, and it kept worrying her. After all, she was engaged to marry the guy. I’m betting she put it up to him straight, that would have been like her, and of course he denied it, but that didn’t convince her either, and then he was afraid she might spill it to someone any minute, and he probably acted queer — he would — and that made her suspicion stronger. Of course she knew he had had plenty of motive. The only thing he cared about in the world was that loft and the damn pigeons, and Mrs. Leeds was going to take them away from him and kick him out. But she wasn’t absolutely sure he had done it. Nice situation. She couldn’t just let it ride, but she didn’t want to denounce him to the police. So she tried to get expert advice by asking Lily Rowan to send her to a lawyer. She was trying to do it right. She wouldn’t even tell me about it. But when I bounced in down there he got scared good and proper. And she would have told you. That is, she would if you had been approachable.”

“Imbecile,” Wolfe muttered.

There was no question about his being back to normal. Me too. He gave me a pain in the neck. But being in uniform and on duty, I had to suppress my personal emotions. I reached for the phone and dialed the number again, and this time got him. As soon as he heard my name he began to sputter, but I ignored it.

“Colonel Ryder,” I said stiffly, “an appointment has been arranged for you with Mr. Nero Wolfe at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning, if you will kindly be at his office at that hour. If you will arrive at ten-thirty, I shall be glad to furnish you with an explanation of the unfortunate publicity I received today, which I feel sure will be satisfactory. At that time I shall also explain why it will be necessary for me to have a week-end leave beginning Saturday noon. My word of honor as an officer is involved.”

As I hung up Wolfe raised his head for another sniff of the aroma from the kitchen. My own mind was concentrated on something else. I was permitted some latitude in my expense account, but to make an entry, Sending murderer on trip to country, $100, seemed inadvisable. My solution of the problem is a military secret.