Meeker turned, letting his eyes leave Fabian. They aimed at Wolfe. “Who are these guys?”
“They’re here on business too. What is yours?”
“By God.” Meeker smiled. That smile was famous, and I decided it justified its reputation. “I don’t know if I care to make it public. With Fabian here. He might think I was backing out, and I don’t back out.” He turned again, not fast. “I don’t back out, Fabian.”
Fabian had nothing to say. He was still standing up.
“Confound it,” Wolfe said testily. “What do you want?”
Meeker turned again, and smiled again. “I want to know if it’s true that you told the cops that your punk put a finger on Perrit and his daughter for me.”
“No.”
“They seem to have that idea.”
“That isn’t true.”
Meeker’s smile came again. It came and went. “Oh,” he said, “I’m a liar.”