I let him go on suffering a while, then took pity on him and went to the radio and turned it off and came back to my chair.
I sipped at my milk and watched him.
By degrees his face relaxed, and finally I saw his eyelids flicker, and then they came open a little.
He heaved a sigh that went clear to the bottom.
I said, “All right, you richly deserve it. What does it mean?
Not more than twelve steps altogether.
As soon as that hooey started, you could get out of your chair and walk fifteen feet to it and back again makes thirty, and you'd be out of your misery.
Or if you honestly believe that would be overdoing, you could get one of those remote control things-”
“I wouldn't, Archie.” He was in his patient mood. “I really wouldn't. You are perfectly aware that I have enough enterprise to turn off the radio; you have seen me do it; the exercise is good for me.
I purposely dial the station which will later develop into the Pearls of Wisdom, and I deliberately bear it. It's discipline. It fortifies me to put up with ordinary inanities for days. I gladly confess that after listening to the Pearls of Wisdom your conversation is an intellectual and esthetic delight.
It's the tops.” He grimaced. “That's what a Pearl of Wisdom just said that cultured interests are. He said they are the tops.” He grimaced again. “Great heavens, I'm thirsty.” He jerked himself up and leaned forward to press the button for beer.
But it was a little while before he got it. An instant after he pressed the button the doorbell rang, which meant that Fritz would have to attend to that chore first.
Since it was nearly eleven o'clock and no one was expected, my heart began to beat, as it always does when we're on a case with any kick to it and any little surprise turns up.
As a matter of fact, I got proof that I had fallen for Wolfe's showmanship again, for I had a sudden conviction that Saul Panzer was going to walk in with the red box under his arm.
Then I heard a voice in the hall that didn't belong to Saul.
The door opened and swung around and Fritz stepped back to admit the visitor, and Helen Frost walked in.
At the look on her face I hopped up and went over and put a hand on her arm, thinking she was about ready to flop.
She shook her head and I dropped the hand.
She walked toward Wolfe's desk and stopped.
Wolfe said:
“How do you do, Miss Frost?
Sit down.” Sharply: “Archie, put her in a chair.”
I got her arm again and eased her over and got a chair behind her, and she sank into it.
She looked at me and said,
“Thank you.”
She looked at Wolfe:
“Something awful has happened.
I didn't want to go home and I…I came here.
I'm afraid. I have been all along, really, but…I'm afraid now.
Perren is dead.
Just now, up on 73rd Street.
He died on the sidewalk.”
“Indeed.
Mr. Gebert.” Wolfe wiggled a finger at her. “Breathe, Miss Frost.
In any event, you need to breathe. – Archie, get a little brandy.”
Chapter Sixteen
Our client shook her head.
“I don't want any brandy.
I don't think I could swallow.”
She was querulous and shaky.
“I tell you…I'm afraid!”
“Yes.” Wolfe had sat up and got his eyes open. “I heard you.
If you don't pull yourself together, with brandy or without, you'll have hysterics, and that will be no help to all.
Do you want some ammonia?
Do you want to lie down?
Do you want to talk?
Can you talk?”
“Yes.”
She put the fingertips of both hands to her temples and caressed them delicately-her forehead, then the temples again.
“I can talk.