He had no money and his health was bad, and mother…helped him.
I think Perren came, not long after, partly because Uncle Boyd was there-they had both been friends of my father's.
Then in 1917 Glenna died, and soon after that Uncle Boyd went back to Scotland, and mother took me to Egypt because they were afraid of a revolution or something in Spain, and
Perren went with us.”
“Good.
I own a house in Egypt which I haven't seen for twenty years.
It has Rhages and Veramine tiles on the doorway.
How long were you in Egypt?”
“About two years.
In 1919, when I was four years old-of course mother has told me all this-three English people were killed in a riot in Cairo, and mother decided to leave.
Perren went back to France.
Mother and I went to Bombay, and later to Bali and Japan and Hawaii.
My uncle, who was the trustee of my property, kept insisting that I should have an American education, and finally, in 1924 was nine years old then-we left Hawaii and came to New York.
It was from that time on, really, that I knew Uncle Boyd, because of course I didn't remember him from Spain, since I had been only two years old.”
“He had his business in New York when you got here?”
“No.
He has told me-he started designing for Wilmerding in London and was very successful and became a partner, and then he decided New York was better and came over here in 1925 and went in for himself.
Of course he looked mother up first thing, and she was a little help to him on account of the people she knew, but he would have gone to the top anyway because he had great ability.
He was very talented.
Paris and London were beginning to copy him.
You would never have thought, just being with him, talking with him…you would never have thought…”
She faltered, and stopped.
Wolfe began to murmur something at her to steady her, but an interruption saved him the trouble.
Fritz appeared to announce lunch.
Wolfe pushed back his chair:
“Your coat will be all right here, Miss Frost.
Your hat?
But permit me to insist, as a favor; to eat with a hat on, except in a railroad station, is barbarous.
Thank you.
Restaurant?
I know nothing of restaurants; short of compulsion, I would not eat in one were Vatel himself the chef.”
Then, after we were seated at the table, when Fritz came to pass the relish platter, Wolfe performed the introduction according to his custom with guests who had not tasted that cooking before:
“Miss Frost, Mr. Frost, this is Mr. Brenner.”
Also according to custom, there was no shop talk during the meal.
Llewellyn was fidgety, but he ate; and the fact appeared to be that our new client was hungry as the devil.
Probably she had had no breakfast.
Anyway, she gave the fricandeau a play which made Wolfe regard her with open approval.
He carried the burden of the conversation, chiefly about Egypt, tiles, the uses of a camel's double lip, and the theory that England's colonizing genius was due to her repulsive climate, on account of which Britons with any sense and will power invariably decided to go somewhere else to work.
It was two-thirty when the salad was finished, so we went back to the office and had Fritz serve coffee there.
Helen Frost telephoned her mother.
Apparently there was considerable parental protest from the other end of the wire, for Helen sounded first persuasive, then irritated, and finally fairly sassy.
During that performance Llewellyn sat and scowled at her, and I couldn't tell whether the scowl was for her or the opposition.
It had no effect on our client either way, for she was sitting at my desk and didn't see it.
Wolfe started in on her again, resuming the Perren Gebert tune, but for the first half hour or so it was spotty because the telephone kept interrupting.
Johnny Keems called to say that he could leave the Pritchard job if we needed him, and I told him that we'd manage to struggle along somehow.
Dudley Frost phoned to give his son hell, and Llewellyn took it calmly and announced that his cousin Helen needed him where he was, whereupon she kept a straight face but I smothered a snicker.
Next came a ring from Fred Durkin, to say that they had arrived and taken possession of Glennanne, finding no one there, and had begun operations; the phone at the cottage was out of order, so Saul had sent Fred to the village to make that report.
A man named Collinger phoned and insisted on speaking to Wolfe, and I listened in and took it down as usual; he was Boyden
McNair's lawyer, and wanted to know if Wolfe could call at his office right away for a conference regarding the will, and of course the bare idea set Wolfe's digestion back at least ten minutes.
It was arranged that Collinger would come to 35th Street the following morning.