You want to know how.
That is simple.
I'll give you the main facts- Mrs. Frost!
Sit down!”
I don't know whether Wolfe regarded my automatic mostly as stage property or not, but I didn't.
Mrs. Edwin Frost had stood up, and she had a fair-sized black leather handbag she was clutching.
I'll admit it was unlikely she would be lugging an atomizer loaded with nitrobenzene into Wolfe's office, to have it found if she was searched, but that wasn't a thing to take a chance on.
I thought I'd better butt in for the sake of an understanding.
I did so:
“I ought to tell you, Mrs. Frost, if you don't like this gun pointed at you, give me that bag or lay it on the floor.”
She ignored me, looking at Wolfe.
She said with calm indignation,
“I can't be compelled to listen to this rubbish.”
I saw a little flash back in her eyes from the fire inside.
I am going.
Helenl Come.”
She moved toward the door.
I moved after her.
Cramer was on his feet and got in front of her before I did.
He blocked her way but didn't touch her.
“Wait, Mrs. Frost. Just a minute.” He looked at Wolfe. “What have you got?
I'm not playing this blind.”
“I've got enough, Mr. Cramer.” Wolfe was crisp. “I'm not a fool.
Take that bag from her and keep her in here or you'll eternally regret it.”
Cramer didn't hesitate more than half a second.
That's one thing I've always liked about him, he never fiddle-faddles much.
He put a hand on her shoulder.
She stepped back, away from it, and stiffened.
He snapped,
“Give me the bag and sit down.
That's no great hardship.
You'll have all the chance for a comeback you want.”
He reached for it and took it.
I noticed that at that juncture she didn't appeal to her masculine relatives; I don't imagine she was very strong on appeals.
She wasn't doing any quivering, either.
She gave Cramer the straight hard eye:
“You keep me here by force.
Do you?”
“Well…” Cramer shrugged. “We think you'll stay for a while.
Just till we get through.”
She walked back and sat down.
Glenna McNair sent her one swift glance, and then looked back at Wolfe.
The men weren't looking at her.
Wolfe said testily,
“These interruptions will help no one. Certainly not you, Mrs. Frost; nothing can help you now.”
He looked at our client.
“You want to know how.
In 1916 Mrs. Frost went with her baby daughter Helen, then only a year old, to the east coast of Spain. There, a year later, her daughter died.
Under the terms of her deceased husband's will, Helen's death meant that the entire fortune went to Dudley and Llewellyn Frost.
Mrs. Frost did not like that, and she made a plan. It was wartime, and the confusion all over Europe made it possible to carry it out. Her old friend Boyden McNair had a baby daughter almost the same age as Helen, just a month apart, and his wife was dead and he was penniless, with no means of making a livelihood. Mrs. Frost bought his daughter from him, explaining that the child would be better off that way anyhow. Inquiry is now being made in Cartagena regarding a manipulation of the record of deaths in the year 1917.