Nero Wolfe 16 - Even in the Best Families by Rex Stout Read Free Book Online Page A

side of the little square hall and put the burden down. Then he turned to me. “I’m going to put something on and go out and look around. Come or stay, suit yourself.”
    “I’ll come. Is it one of your dogs? Or—”
    He had started for the stairs, but halted. “No. Sarah’s—my cousin’s. He was there tonight, you saw him.” His face twitched. “By God, look at him! Getting here with that knife in him! I gave him to her two years ago; he’s been her dog for two years, but when it came to this it was me he came to. By God!”
    He went for the stairs and up, and I followed. Over the years there have been several occasions when I needed to get some clothes on without delay, and I thought I was fast, but I was still in my room with a shoe to lace when Leeds’ steps were in the hall again and he called in to me, “Wait downstairs. I’ll be back in a minute.”
    I called that I was coming, but he didn’t halt. By the time I got down to the little square hall he was gone, and the outside door was shut. I opened it and stepped out and yelled, “Hey, Leeds!”
    His voice came from somewhere in the darkness. “I said wait!”
    Even if he had decided not to bother with me there was no use trying to dash after him, with my handicap, so I settled for making my way around the corner of the house and across the graveled rectangleto where my car was parked. Getting the door unlocked, I climbed in and got the flashlight from the dash compartment. That put me, if not even with Leeds for a night outdoors in the country, at least a lot closer to him. Relocking the car door, I sent the beam of the flash around and then switched it off and went back to the side door of the house.
    I could hear steps, faint, then louder, and soon Leeds appeared within the area of light from the hall’s window. He wasn’t alone. With him was a dog, a length ahead of him, on a leash. As they approached I courteously stepped aside, but the dog ignored me completely. Leeds opened the door and they entered the hall, and I joined them.
    “Get in front of her,” Leeds said, “a yard off, and stand still.”
    I obeyed, circling.
    “See, Hebe.”
    For the first time the beast admitted I was there. She lifted her head at me, then stepped forward and smelled my pants legs, not in haste. When she had finished Leeds crossed to where the dead dog lay on the bench, made a sign, and Hebe went to him.
    Leeds passed his fingertips along the dead dog’s belly, touching lightly the smooth short hair. “Take it, Hebe.”
    She stretched her sinewy neck, sniffed along the course his fingertips had taken, backed up a step, and looked up at him.
    “Don’t be so damn sure,” Leeds told her. He pointed a finger. “Take it again.”
    She did so, taking more time for it, and again looked up at him.
    “I didn’t know they were hounds,” I remarked.
    “They’re everything they ought to be.” I supposeLeeds made some signal, though I didn’t see it, and the dog started toward the door, with her master at the other end of the leash. “They have excellent scent, and this one’s extraordinary. She’s Nobby’s mother.”
    Outside, on the slab of stone where we had found Nobby, Leeds said, “Take it, Hebe,” and when she made a low noise in her throat as she tightened the leash, he added, “Quiet, now. I’ll do the talking.”
    She took him, with me at their heels, around the corner of the house to the graveled space, across that, along the wall of the main outbuilding, and to a corner of the enclosed run. There she stopped and lifted her head.
    Leeds waited half a minute before he spoke. “Bah. Can’t you tell dogs apart? Take it!”
    I switched the flashlight on, got a reprimand, and switched it off. Hebe made her throat noise again, got her nose down, and started off. We crossed the meadow on the trail to the edge of the woods and kept going. The pace was steady but not fast; for me it was an easy stroll, nothing like the race Leeds had led me