“It is what my father left me.”
“Oh, come, Miss Frost.
Sizes of estates in trust are no secrets nowadays.
How much are you worth?” She shrugged.
“I understand that it is something over two million dollars.”
“Indeed.
Is it intact?”
“Intact?
Why shouldn't it be?”
“I have no idea.
But don't think I am prying into affairs which your family considers too intimate for discussion with outsiders.
Your uncle told me yesterday that your mother hasn't got a cent. His expression.
Then your father's fortune was all left to you?” She flushed a little.
“Yes. It was.
I have no brother or sister.”
“And it will be turned over to you-excuse me. If you please, Archie.” It was the phone.
I wheeled to my desk and got it. I recognized the quiet controlled voice before she gave her name, and made my own tones restrained and dignified as she deserved. I don't like hysterics any better than Wolfe does.
I turned to Helen Frost:
“Your mother would like to speak to you.”
I got up and held my chair for her, and she moved over to it.
“Yes, mother…Yes…No, I didn't…I know you said that, but under the circumstances-I can't very well tell you now…I couldn't ask Uncle Boyd about it because he wasn't back from lunch yet, so I just told Mrs. Lament where I was going…No, mother, that's ridiculous, don't you think I'm old enough to know what I'm doing?…I can't do that, and I can't explain till I see you, and when
I leave here I'll come straight home but I can't tell now when that will be…Don't worry about that, and for heaven's sake give me credit for having a little sense…No…Good-bye…”
She had color in her face again as she arose and returned to her seat.
Wolfe had narrow eyes on her.
He murmured sympathetically:
“You don't like people fussing about you, do you, Miss Frost?
Even your mother.
I know.
But you must tolerate it.
Remember that physically and financially you are well worth some fuss.
Mentally you are-well-in the pupa stage. I hope you don't mind my discussing you.”
“It would do me no good to mind it.”
“I didn't say it would. I only said I hoped you didn't.
About your inheritance;
I presume it will be turned over to you when you come of age on May seventh.”
“I presume it will.”
“That is only five weeks off.
Twenty-nine, thirty-six-five weeks from tomorrow.
Two million dollars.
Another responsibility for you.
Will you continue to work?”
“I don't know.”
“Why have you been working?
Not for income surely.”
“Of course not.
I work because I enjoy it.
I felt silly not doing anything.
And Uncle Boyd-Mr. McNair-it happened that there was work there I could do.”
“How long-confound it.
Excuse me.” It was the telephone again.