Rex Stout_Nero Wolfe 07 by Over My Dead Body Page B

guess we get into bad habits. But if you’re aware of the reputation of Nero Wolfe, you’re also aware that he dishes out trouble only to people who have asked for it.”
    She gazed at me a moment, turned and closed the sliding door of the cabinet, and then returned to me. “This morning,” she said, “my husband was saying that he would engage Mr. Wolfe to investigate the disappearance of Mr. Driscoll’s diamonds. Miss Tormic was present. She declared that she had engaged Nero Wolfe to act in the matter in her behalf. Shortly afterwards her friend, Miss Lovchen, asked permission to go out on an errand. It is not only detectives who are curious. I am sometimes curious. If I were to ask—”
    She stopped with her mouth open, her body stiffening. Miltan spun on his heel to face the door to the hall. I did the same. The yell that had split the air sounded like something that you might expect butwould certainly resent if you found yourself alone in a jungle at night.
    When the second yell came all three of us were running for the door. Miltan was ahead, and in the hall he bounded for the stairs with us after him. There were no more yells, but sounds of commotion, steps and voices, came from above, and on the second-floor landing we were impeded by people who popped out of doors. Miltan was a kangaroo; I couldn’t have caught him for a purse. At the top of the second flight we were brought to a halt by obstructions. A colored man was wriggling, his arms held by the chinless wonder, Nat Driscoll, in his shirt but no trousers, was jumping up and down; the two Balkans, in fencing costumes, were backed against the wall; Zorka, in gold-leaf undies and that was all, was standing apart and systematically screaming. Before Miltan could make any progress or I could get around him, I felt myself brushed aside and Jeanne Miltan was there.
    “What?” she demanded in a tone that would have stopped a hurricane. “Arthur! What is it?”
    The colored man stopped wriggling and rolled his eyes at her and said something I didn’t get, but apparently she did, for she started off on a lope down the hall. I was close behind her and there were steps behind me. She went to the last door, the end room. It was standing open and she passed through, taking the curve without slowing down. She jerked to a halt, saw it there on the floor, and walked over to it. I was beside her. It was Percy Ludlow, lying on his side, so tilted that he would have been on his back if he hadn’t been propped up by the protruding point of the épée which was sticking clean through him.

Chapter 4
    J eanne Miltan said something foreign and then stood and stared down at it with her face frozen. I heard a gasp from Miltan behind me, and other noises, and turned and saw them ganged in the doorway.
    “Keep out of here,” I said. “All of you.”
    I stooped over for a quick look and straightened up and told Jeanne Miltan, “He’s dead.” She said peevishly, “Of course he is.” A scream came from the doorway and I yelled in that direction, “Shut up!” and went on to Mrs. Miltan, “Somebody must stay here, and the police of course, and nobody must leave.”
    She nodded. “You phone the police. In the office. Nikola, you stay here. I’ll go down to the hall—”
    She was moving, but I stopped her. “I’d rather not. You do the phoning. It’s your place and you saw it first. I’ll take the street door. Don’t let anyone in here, Miltan.”
    He looked pale as he mumbled. “The
col de mort
—”
    “No, it’s not there. The end of the épée is bare and blunt.”
    “It can’t be. It wouldn’t go through.”
    “I can’t help that, it’s not there.”
    Jeanne Miltan was headed for the door and I followed her. They made way for us. Carla Lovchen was going to say something to me and I shook my head at her. The chinless wonder grabbed at my elbow and I dodged him. People had come up from the floor below and Nat Driscoll came running down the hall with his