She sat looking at me as though she were just recovering from a terrific punch on the jaw.
“But what are you going to do?”
“ I’m not going to do anything. You’re the one that’s going to do it.”
“Do what?”
I said, “You’re going to trump the old man’s ace.”
“But I don’t understand.”
“You disappeared,” I said, “under such circumstances that you might have had a sudden attack of amnesia.”
“Yes. That was the way he wanted it to appear.”
“He, of course, suggested you write Helen Framley, so Sidney wouldn’t write Philip?”
“Yes.”