She is…she and I have concluded a little agreement.
I may say that I am not an ogre and I resent your silly invasion of my premises.
You gentlemen are leaving now, and certainly she is free to accompany you if she chooses to do that. – Miss Frost?”
She stood up.
Her lips were compressed, but she opened them to say,
“I'll look at the orchids.”
They all began yapping at once.
I got up and prepared for traffic duty in case of a jam.
Llewellyn broke loose from his lawyer and started toward her, ready to throw her behind his saddle and gallop off.
She gave them a good brave stare:
“For heaven's sake, shut up!
Don't you think I'm old enough to take care of myself?
Lew, stop that!”
She started off with Wolfe.
All they could do was take it and look foolish.
The lawyer friend pulled at his little pink nose.
Perren Gebert stuck his hands in his pockets and stood straight.
Llewellyn strode to the door, after the orchid lovers had passed through, and all we could see was his fine strong back. The sound of the elevator door closing came from the hall, and the whirr of its ascending.
I announced,
“That'll be all for the present, and I don't like scenes.
They get on my nerves.”
Lew Frost whirled and told me,
“Go to hell.”
I grinned at him.
“I can't plug you, because you're our client.
But you might as well beat it.
I've got work to do.”
The plump one said,
“Come on, Lew, well go to my office.”
Perren Gebert was already on the move.
Llewellyn stood aside and glared him full of holes as he passed.
Then Leach went and nudged his friend along. I tripped by to open the front door for them; Llewellyn was continuing with remarks, but I disdained them.
He and his attorney went down the stoop to the sidewalk and headed east; Gebert had climbed into a neat little convertible which he had parked back of the roadster and was stepping on the starter.
I shut the door and went back in.
I switched on the house phone for the plant room and pressed the button.
In about twenty seconds Wolfe answered, and I told him:
“It's quiet and peaceful down here now.
No fuss at all.”
His murmur came at me:
“Good.
Miss Frost is in the middle room, enjoying the orchids…reasonably well. When Mr. McNair phones, tell him six o'clock.
If he insists on coming earlier, let him, and keep him.
Let me know when he is there, and have the office door closed.
She left her vanity case on my desk.
Send Fritz up with it.”
“Okay.”
I switched off and settled to wait for McNair's call, reflecting on the relative pulling power of beauty in distress and two million iron men and how it probably depended on whether you were the romantic type or not
Chapter Eight
Two hours later, at six o'clock, I sat at my desk pounding the typewriter with emphasis and a burst of speed, copying off the opening pages of one of Hoehn's catalogues.
The radio was turned on, loud, for the band of the Hotel Portland Surf Room.