“No,” Cramer said meaningly.
“No?” Wolfe halted. “No what?”
“Goodwin won’t be in the way. On the contrary. At least until I get through with him.”
“He’s going to drive me home.”
“Not now he isn’t.”
“May I ask what this is all about?” Hewitt was still displeased. “This surveillance of Miss Tracy? This attitude—”
“Certainly, Mr. Hewitt. Sit down.” Cramer waved at chairs, of which there were plenty. “Everybody sit down. This is going to be — ah, Miss Tracy, did you find your father? Good. Pull that chair around for Miss Tracy, Purley. Sit down, Goodwin.”
I attended to the chair for Anne myself, then turned to face the Inspector.
“No, thanks. I’m nervous.”
“You are,” Cramer growled. “The day you’re nervous I’ll shave with a butter knife. How did you know that man had been shot in the top of the head when you called me on the phone?”