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right here. In this building.”
    “When?”
    “Last summer.” She hesitated and then went on. “There was a girl in the office for a month, vacation time, filling in, and one day I noticed the buttons on her blouse. I said I had never seen any buttons like them, and she said very few people had. I asked her where I could get some, and she said nowhere. She said her aunt made them out of horsehair, and it took her a day to make one button, so she didn’t make them to sell, just as a hobby.”
    “Were the buttons white?”
    “Yes.”
    “How many were on her blouse?”
    “I don’t remember. I think five.”
    At the Hirsh Laboratories, deciding it would be better not to display the overalls, I had cut off one of the buttons, one of the three still intact. I took it from a pocket and offered it. “Anything like that?”
    She gave it a good look. “Exactly like that, as I remember, but of course it was nearly a year ago. That size too.”
    I retrieved the button. “This sounds as if it may help, Miss Epps. What’s the girl’s name?”
    She hesitated. “I suppose I have to tell you.”
    “You certainly do.”
    “I don’t want to get her into any trouble. Nero Wolfe is a detective and so are you.”
    “I don’t want to get anybody into trouble unless they have asked for it. Anyway, from what you’ve already told me it would be a cinch to find her. What’s her name?”
    “Tenzer. Anne Tenzer.”
    “What’s her aunt’s name?”
    “I don’t know. She didn’t tell me and I didn’t ask.”
    “Have you seen her since last summer?”
    “No.”
    “Do you know if Quinn and Collins got her through an agency?”
    “Yes, they did. The Stopgap Employment Service.”
    “How old is she?”
    “Oh—she’s under thirty.”
    “Is she married?”
    “No. As far as I know.”
    “What does she look like?”
    “She’s about my size. She’s a blonde—or she was last summer. She thinks she’s very attractive, and I guess she is. I guess you would think so.”
    “I’ll see when I see her. Of course I won’t mention you.” I got my wallet out. “My instructions from Mr. Wolfe were not to pay you until I have checked your information, but he hadn’t met you and heard you, and I have.” I produced two twenties and a ten. “Here’s half of it, with the understanding that you will say nothing about this to anyone. You impress me as a woman who can watch her tongue.”
    “I can.”
    “Say
nothing
to
anyone.
Right?”
    “I won’t.” She put the bills in her bag. “When will I get the rest?”
    “Soon. I may see you again, but if that isn’t necessary I’ll mail it. If you’ll give me your home address and phone number?”
    She did so, West 169th Street, was going to add something, decided not to, and turned to go. I watched her to the entrance. There was no spring to her legs.The relation between a woman’s face and the way she walks would take a chapter in a book I’ll never write.
    Since I had a table reserved in the restaurant down- stairs, I went down and took it and ordered a bowl of clam chowder, which Fritz never makes, and which was all I wanted after my late breakfast. Having stopped on the way to consult the phone book, I knew the address of the Stopgap Employment Service—493 Lexington Avenue. But the approach had to be considered because (1) agencies are cagey about the addresses of their personnel, and (2) if Anne Tenzer was the mother of the baby she would have to be handled with care. I preferred not to phone Wolfe. The understanding was that when I was out on an errand I would use intelligence guided by experience (as he put it), meaning my intelligence, not his.
    The result was that shortly after two o’clock I was seated in the anteroom of the Exclusive Novelty Button Co., waiting for a phone call, or rather, hoping for one. I had made a deal with Mr. Nicholas Losseff, the button fiend, as he had sat at his desk eating salami, black bread, cheese, and pickles. What he got was the