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That wrecked most of the remaining barriers。 By the time the meal was finished I had enough to fill six pages； single…spaced。 She gave me most of it in straight English； but on the two or three points where she merely implied I am supplying my own translation。 Beginning with the day he started to work； Waldo Wilmot Moore had gone through the personnel of the stock department like a dolphin through waves。 There could be no conservative estimate of the total score he had piled up； because there had been nothing conservative about it。 I got the impression that he had tallied up into the dozens； but Rosa was probably exaggerating through loyalty to his memory； and only four names stood out…and two of those were men。
GWYNNE FERRIS； according to Rosa； was a Perfect bitch。 Being a born beckoner and promiser； she had tried her routine on Moore； had been caught off balance； and had had her beckoning and promising career abruptly terminated； or at least temporarily interrupted。 She was about Rosa's age； in her early twenties； and was still a stenographer in the reserve pool after nearly two years。
BENJAMIN FRENKEL； a serious and intense young man who was assistant head of a section； and who was generally regarded as the third…best letter dictator in the whole department； had been beckoned and promised by Gwynne Ferris until he didn't know which way was south。 He had hated Waldo Moore with all the seriousness and intensity he had； or even a little extra。
HESTER LIVSEY was a phony； a heel； and a halfwit。 Moore had kidded her along and had never had the faintest intention of marrying her。 He would never have married anyone； but she was too dumb to know it。 For a while she had actually believed that Moore was her private property； and when she had learned that he was still enjoying the panionship of Rosa； not to mention any others； she had gone pletely crazy and had not recovered to date。
SUMNER HOFF was something special； being a civil engineer and a technical adviser to the whole stock department。 He had been the hero…or the villain； depending On where you stood…of the most dramatic episode of the whole Moore story。 On a day in October； just before quitting time； at the edge of the arena outside Dickerson's office； he had plugged Moore in the jaw and knocked him into the lap of a girl at a near…by desk； ruining a letter she was typing。 He had implied； just before he swung； that what was biting him was a checker's report Moore had made on a letter he had dictated； but according to Rosa that was only a cover and what was really biting him was Moore's conquest of Hester Livsey。 Sumner Hoff had been after Hester Livsey； strictly honorable； for over a year。
I was beginning to understand why Pine had said that Moore was the type that stirs up gossip。
For nearly two hours； sitting there working on the steak and its accessories； and another bottle of wine； and then pastry and coffee and brandy； Rosa told me things。 When she got through I had a bushel of details； but fundamentally I didn't know anything I hadn't known before。 It was no news that Moore had made various people sore in his capacity as a correspondence checker； or that his own section head hadn't liked him or wanted him； or even that he was death on dames。 All Rosa had done was fill in。； and when we got right down to it； how did she know Moore had been murdered and who did it； all she had was loose feathers。 She knew he had been murdered because she knew who wanted him dead。 Okay； who？ On that she reminded me of the old gag about which one would he save； his wife or his son？ She would have rooted for Hester Livsey if it hadn't been for Gwynne Ferris； and she would have rooted for Ferris if it hadn't been for Livsey。 As for the actual circumstances of Moore's death； she had plenty of gossip； unshakable opinions； and a fine healthy set of suspicions and prejudices； but no facts I didn't already know。
I wasn't greatly disappointed； since in the detective business you always draw ten times as many blanks as you do paying numbers； but with all her pouring it out I had an uneasy feeling that she might have something I wasn't getting。 It was plausible that she had waylaid me just to give me moral support and a friendly shove in what she regarded as the right direction； she was quite capable of that； but by the time we finished with the brandy I had decided that she was also capable of hiding an ace。 And I seemed to be stymied。 So I told her：
〃It's only a little after eight。 We could go somewhere and dance； or take in a show； or I could get my car and we could ride around； but that can wait。 I think for tonight we ought to concentrate on Wally Moore； Did you ever hear of Nero Wolfe？〃
〃Nero Wolfe the detective？ Certainly。〃
〃Good。 I know him quite well。 As I said。 I'm not a cop； but I'm a sort of a detective myself； and I often consult Nero Wolfe。 His office is in his house on Thirty…fifth Street。 What do you say we go down there and talk it over with him？ He knows how to fit things together。〃
She had got pletely relaxed； but now she darted a glance at me。
〃What is it； just a house？〃
〃Sure； with a room in it he uses for an office。〃
She shook her head。 〃You've got me wrong； Mr。 Truett。 I wouldn't go into a house I'd never been in with a man I didn't know well enough to call him by his first name。〃
The girl interpreted everything in terms of panionship。 〃You've got me wrong；〃 I assured her。 〃If and when I ask you to enjoy life with me it won't be on the pretense that we've got work to do。 I doubt if I'll feel like it until you get this Wally Moore out of your system。 That might even be why I want to go and discuss it with Mr。 Wolfe。〃
She wasn't stubborn。 Fifteen minutes later we were down on the sidewalk； climbing into a taxi。 In that quarter…hour I had signed the check； drawn the curtain again for a decent interval； and phoned Wolfe to tell him what was ing。
In the taxi she was nervous。 Thinking it would be a good idea to keep her relaxed； and anyway I had drunk my half of the wine and brandy； I courteously got hold of her hand； but she pulled it away。 It irritated me a little； because I felt sure that what made her balky was not the idea of discussing murder with Nero Wolfe but the prospect of entering a strange house with me。 It seemed a little late in the day for a Puritan streak to show。 As a result； however； my faculties resumed their normal operations； and therefore I became aware； at Forty…seventh Street and Tenth Avenue； that we had an outrider。 Another taxi had stuck to our rear all the way across town； and turned south on Tenth Avenue behind us。 The driver was apparently not the subtle type。 Since Rosa had seen fit to build a fence between us； I said nothing about it to her。
When we turned right on Thirty…fifth Street our suffix came along。 By the time we rolled to the curb in front of Wolfe's house there wasn't even a hyphen between us。 I paid the driver from my seat； and my giving Rosa a hand out to the sidewalk； and the emergence from the other cab of a big husky male in a topcoat and a conservative felt hat； were simultaneous。
As he started toward us I addressed him； 〃I didn't quite catch