Fritz will need a few things right away.”
I knew if the delivery of supplies once started there wouldn't be a chance.
I also knew that coaxing wouldn't do it, and bullying wouldn't do it.
I was desperate, and I ran over Wolfe's weaknesses in my mind and picked one. I butted in.
“Listen. This cockeyed feast you're headed for, I know I can't stop it.
I've tried that before.
Okay-”
Wolfe said to Fritz,
“But not the pimento.
If you can find any of those yellow anguino peppers down on Sullivan Street-”
I didn't dare touch him, but I leaned down close to him.
I bawled at him,
“And what am I to tell Miss Frost when she comes here at two o'clock?
I am empowered to make appointments, am I not?
She is a lady, is she not?
Of course, if common courtesy is overboard too-”
Wolfe stopped himself, pressed his lips together, and turned his head.
He looked me in the eye. After a moment he asked quietly,
“Who?
What Miss Frost?”
“Miss Helen Frost.
Daughter of Mrs. Edwin Frost, cousin of our client, Mr. Llewellyn Frost, niece of Mr. Dudley Frost Remember?”
“I don't believe it.
This is trickery.
Birdlime.”
“Sure.” I straightened up. “This is close to the limit. Very well.
When she comes I'll tell her I exceeded my authority in venturing to make an appointment. –I won't be in for lunch, Fritz.”
I wheeled and strode out, to the office, and sat down at my desk and pulled the slips of paper from my pocket, wondering if it would work, and trying to decide what I would do if it did. I fooled with the slips pretending to arrange them, not breathing much so I could listen.
It was at least two minutes before I heard anything from the kitchen, and then it was Wolfe sliding back his chair. Next his footsteps approaching.
I kept busy with the papers, and so didn't actually see him as he entered the office, crossed to his desk, and got lowered into his seat. I continued with my work.
Finally he said, in the sweet tone that made me want to kick him,
“So I am to change all my plans at the whim of a young woman who, to begin with, is a liar.
Or at the least, postpone them.”
He suddenly exploded ferociously,
“Mr. Goodwin!
Are you conscious?”
I said without looking up,
“No.”
Silence.
After a while I heard him sigh.
“All right, Archie.” He had controlled himself back to his normal tone.
“Tell me about it.”
It was up to me.
It was the first time I had ever stopped a relapse after it had got as far as the menu stage, but it looked as if it might turn out to be something like curing a headache by chopping off my head.
I had to go through with it, and the only way that occurred to me was to take a slender thread that had dangled in front of me up at McNair's that morning, and try to sell it to Wolfe for a steel cable.
“Well,” I said, and swiveled. “We went and did it.”
“Go on.” He had half-shut eyes on me.
I knew he suspected me, and I wouldn't be surprised if he had my number right then.
But he wasn't starting back for the kitchen.
“It was pretty close to a washout.” I picked up the slips. Cramer's as sore as a boil on your nose.