A report should end with a flourish, but this one can’t. The groan has nothing to do with murder or trout; the state cops delivered Yaeger-Worthy to Jessup’s office safe and sound, and the fisherwomen came back a little after three o’clock with five cutthroats, two browns, four Dolly Vardens, and seven rainbows. For five of us, even though one was Nero Wolfe, that was ample.
The gloomy item left to report is the job I had to tackle, telling Lily that she would have to start all over again on the book. Find another writer and then start him from scratch. Awful. But since looking forward to a tough job is even worse than doing it, I didn’t put it off. When the trout had been admired and turned over to Wolfe, and they had scattered to go and change, I went to my room and through the little hall, tapped on the door of Lily’s room, was invited to enter, and did so. She was in a chair by a window running a comb through her hair.
“I have news,” I said, “but you’ll have to take the bad with the good. In one way it’s-“
Nuts. Why should I annoy you with it'Let’s have a flourish. Harvey Greve was turned loose in time to come and see Wolfe and me off for Helena in the morning.