I tossed my notebook on my desk and sat down and sipped at the milk. There was no use trying to explode him off of that book.
But after a while he picked up the thin strip of ebony he used for a bookmark, inserted it, closed the book, laid it down, and reached out and rang for beer.
Then he leaned back and admitted I was alive.
“Pleasant afternoon, Archie?”
I grunted. “That was one hell of a tea.
Dudley Frost was the only one who had any, and he wasn't inclined to divvy so I sent him home.
I only got one real hot piece of news, that no one but a fool jests at death.
How does that strike you?”
Wolfe grimaced.
“Tell me about it.”
I read it to him from the notebook, filling in the gaps from memory, though I didn't need much because I've condensed my symbols until I can take down the Constitution of the United States on the back of an old envelope, which might be a good place for it.
Wolfe's beer arrived, and met its fate.
Except for time out for swallowing, he listened, as usual, settled back comfortably with his eyes closed.
I tossed the notebook to the back of my desk, swiveled, and pulled the bottom drawer out and got my feet up.
“That's the crop.
That one's in the bag.
What shall I start on now?”
Wolfe opened his eyes.
“Your French is not even ludicrous.
We'll return to that.
Why did you frighten Mr. Frost away by talk of a search warrant?
Is there a subtlety there too deep for me?”
“No, just momentum.
I asked him that question about the red box to get a line on the other two, and as I went along it occurred to me it might be fun to find out if he had anything at home he didn't want anyone to see, and anyway what good was he?
I got rid of him.”
“Oh. I was about to credit you with superior finesse.
It would have been that, to get him away, on the chance that there might be a remark, a glance, a gesture, not to be expected in his presence.
In fact, that is exactly what happened.
I congratulate you anyhow.
As for Mr. Frost-everyone has something at home they don't want anyone to see; that is one of the functions of a home, to provide a spot to keep such things. – And you say they haven't the red box and don't know where it is.”
“I offer that opinion.
The look Gebert shot at Frost when I hinted Frost had it, and the look Mrs. Frost gave Gebert, as I told you. It's a cinch that what they think is in the box means something important to them.
It's a good guess that they haven't got it and don't know where it is, or they wouldn't have been so quick on the trigger when I hinted that.
As for Frost, God knows.
That's the advantage a guy has that always explodes no matter what you say, there's no symptomatic nuances for an observer like me.”
“You?
Ha!
I am impressed.
I confess I am surprised that Mrs. Frost didn't find a pretext as soon as you entered, to take her daughter to some other room.
Is the woman immune to trepidation?
Even common curiosity…” I shook my head.
“If it's common, she hasn't got it.
That dame has got a steel spine, a governor on her main artery that prevents acceleration, and a patent air-cooling system for her brain. If you wanted to prove she murdered anyone you'd have to see her do it and be sure to have a camera along.”
“Dear me.” Wolfe came forward in his chair to pour beer.
“Then we must find another culprit, which may be a nuisance.” He watched the foam subside.
“Take your book and look at your notes on Mr. Gebert's vaudeville. Where he quoted Norboisin; read that sentence.”
“You'd like some more fun with my French?”
“No, indeed; it isn't fun.
Since your shorthand is phonetic, do as well as you can with your symbols.
I think I know the quotation, but I want to be sure.