“Me?” Wallace raised his handsome brows. “Is that why you’ve placed this chair where the sun hits my face?” He seemed amused.
Keats silently pulled the cord of the Venetian blind.
“Thanks, Lieutenant. I’ll be glad to answer any questions you ask. If, of course, I can.”
“I don’t think you’ll have any trouble answering this one, Mr. Wallace: Where do you come from?”
“Ah.” Wallace looked thoughtful. “Now that’s just the kind of question, Lieutenant, I can’t answer.”
“You mean you won’t answer.”
“I mean I can’t answer.”
“You don’t know where you come from, I suppose.”
“Exactly.”
“If that’s going to be Mr. Wallace’s attitude,” said Ellery from his corner, “I think we can terminate the interview.”