And she doesn't know where the red box is?”
“She knows nothing whatever about it.
Nor does her cousin.
My word for that.”
“Okay.
I'll get her later maybe.
Let me know what you find, huh?”
“By all means.”
Wolfe hung up and pushed the instrument away, leaned back and locked his fingers on his belly, and slowly shook his head as he murmured,
“That man talks too much. – I'm sure, Miss Frost, that you won't be offended at missing a visit to police headquarters.
It is one of my strongest prejudices, my disinclination to permit a client of mine to appear there.
Let us hope that Mr. Cramer's search for the red box will keep him entertained.”
Llewellyn put in,
“In my opinion, that's the only thing to do anyway, wait till it's found.
All this hash of ancient history -if you were as careful to protect your client from your own annoyance as you are-”
“I remind you, sir, you are here by sufferance.
Your cousin has the sense, when she hires an expert, to permit him his hocus-pocus. – What were we saying, Miss Frost?
Oh, yes.
You were telling me that Mr. Gebert came to New York in 1931.
You were then sixteen years old.
You say that he is forty-four, so he was then thirty-nine, not an advanced age.
I presume he called upon your mother at once, as an old friend?”
She nodded. “Yes.
We knew he was coming; he had written. Of course I didn't remember him; I hadn't seen him since I was four years old.”
“Of course not.
Did he perhaps come on a political mission?
I understand that he was a member of the camelots du roi.”
“I don't think so.
I'm sure he didn't-but that's silly, certainly I can't be sure.
But I think not.”
“At any rate, as far as you know, he doesn't work, and you don't like that.”
“I don't Iike that in anyone.”
“Remarkable sentiment for an heiress.
However. If Mr. Gebert should marry you, that would be a job for him.
Let us abandon him to that slim hope for his redemption.
It is getting on for four o'clock, when I must leave you.
I need to ask you about a sentence you left unfinished yesterday, shortly after I made my unsuccessful appeal to you.
You told me that your father died when you were only a few months old, and that therefore you had never had a father, and then you said, That is,' and stopped.
I prodded you, but you said it was nothing, and we let it go at that.
It may in fact be nothing, but I would like to have it-whatever was ready for your tongue.
Do you remember?”
She nodded.
“It really was nothing.
Just something foolish.”
“Let me have it.
I've told you, we're combing a meadow for a mustard seed.”
“But this was nothing at all.
Just a dream, a childish dream I had once.
Then I had it several times after that, always the same.
A dream about myself…”