“How’s Mr. Cramer?” he asked. “Stewing?”
I looked at him suspiciously. His asking that, and the tone of his voice, and the expression on his face — any one would have been enough for me the way I knew him, and the three together made it so obvious that the only question was how he got that way.
I confronted him. “Which one did you crack?” I demanded. “Rose or Anne?”
“Neither,” he replied complacently. “I had an hour’s talk with Miss Lasher while you were still sleeping, and later some conversation with Miss Tracy. They still clutch their secrets. When Mr. Hewitt—”
“Then where did you lap up all the cream? What are you gloating about?”
“I’m not gloating.” He cocked his massive head on one side and rubbed his nose with a forefinger. “It is true that I have conceived a little experiment.”
“Oh, you have. Goody. Before or after Cramer carts us off to the D.A.’s office?”
Wolfe chuckled. “Is that his intention? Then it must be before. Is Miss Tracy with him?”
“Yes. The youthful Updegraff is in the kitchen. He’s going to marry Anne provided your experiment doesn’t land him in the coop for murder.”
“I thought you were affianced to Miss Tracy.”