“I didn't need to come here to see you, sir.
I did so in acknowledgment of an idiotic but charming gesture conceived and executed by Mr. Frost.
I understand that Mr. Cramer of the police has had several conversations with you, and that he is violently dissatisfied with the lack of progress in his investigation of the murder of one of your employees on your premises.
Mr. Cramer has a high opinion of my abilities.
I shall telephone him within an hour and suggest that he bring you-and other persons-to my office.” Wolfe wiggled a finger. 'Tor much longer than fifteen minutes.”
He moved.
I got up.
Frost started after him.
“Wait!” McNair called out. “Wait a minute, you don't understand!”
Wolfe turned and stood. McNair continued,
“In the first place, why try to browbeat me?
That's ridiculous.
Cramer couldn't take me to your office, or any place, if I didn't care to go, you know that.
Of course Molly-of course the murder was terrible. Good God, don't I know it?
And naturally I'll do anything I can to help clear it up.
But what's the use?
I've told Cramer everything I know, we've been over it a dozen times. Sit down.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead and nose, started to return it to his pocket and then threw it on the desk. “I'm going to have a breakdown.
Sit down.
I worked fourteen hours a day getting the spring line ready, enough to kill a man, and then this comes on top of it.
You've been dragged into this by Lew Frost.
What the devil does he know about it?”
He glared at Frost.
“I've told it over and over to the police until I'm sick of it. Sit down, won't you?
Ten minutes is all you'll need for what I know, anyhow. That's what makes it worse, as I've told Cramer, nobody knows anything. And Lew Frost knows less than that.”
He glared at the young man.
“You know damn well you're just trying to use it as a lever to pry Helen out of here.”
He transferred the glare to Wolfe.
“Do you expect me to have anything better than the barest courtesy for you? Why should I?”
Wolfe had returned to his chair and got himself lowered into it, without taking his eyes off McNair's face.
Frost started to speak, but I silenced him with a shake of the head. McNair picked up the handkerchief and passed it across his forehead and threw it down again.
He pulled open the top right drawer of his desk and looked in it, muttered, “Where the devil's that aspirin?” tried the drawer on the left, reached in and brought out a small bottle, shook a couple of tablets onto his palm, poured half a glass of water from a thermos carafe, tossed the tablets into his mouth, and washed them down.
He looked at Wolfe and complained resentfully,
“I've had a hell of a headache for two weeks.
I've taken a ton of aspirin and it doesn't help any.
I'm going to have a breakdown.
That's the truth-”
There was a knock, and the door opened.
The intruder was a tall handsome woman in a black dress with rows of white buttons.
She came on in, glanced politely around, and said in a voice full of culture:
“Excuse me, please.” She looked at McNair: “That 1241 resort, the cashmere plain tabby with the medium oxford twill stripe-can that be done in two shades of natural Shetland with basket instead of tabby?” McNair frowned at her and demanded, “What?” She took a breath. “That 1241 resort-” “Oh. I heard you. It cannot. The line stands, Mrs. Lament. You know that.” “I know.
Mrs. Frost wants it.”
McNair straightened up.
“Mrs. Frost? Is she here?”
The woman nodded.
“She's ordering.
I told her you were engaged.
She's taking two of the Portsmouth ensembles.”
“Oh. She is.” McNair had suddenly stopped fidgeting, and his voice, though still thin, sounded more under command. “I want to see her. Ask if it will suit her convenience to wait till I'm through here.”
“And the 1241 in two shades of Shetland-”
“Yes. Of course.