She nodded. “Tell me, does Nero Wolfe want that carton just to see if I took something that doesn’t belong to me?”
“No.” I couldn’t see that hedging was called for. “He doesn’t want it at all. What he wants is Colonel Ryder’s suitcase. Evidently you do too. I guess you’ll have to draw straws for it. That all?”
“Oh, my lord.” She was frowning. “This is an awful fix. But he doesn’t know that you’re bringing it — that you’ve got it.”
“Sure he does.”
“He can’t. You’ve had no chance to tell him you found it.”
“But he knows he sent me for it, therefore he knows it’s on the way or soon will be.”
She shook her head. “You never let up, do you?” Her tone implied that she would love to come out and play after she got her work done. “Of course he can’t be sure. He couldn’t have known I took it, and what if I had put it somewhere else? Which I would have done if I had used my brains, knowing you were around.” She put her hand on my arm, not as for any purpose, just sort of involuntarily, as though it belonged there. She smiled at me as at a comrade. “I suppose you’d be surprised if I offered to give you ten thousand dollars for that carton — and what’s in it — with the understanding that you forget all about it. Wouldn’t you?”
I batted an eye. “I’d be simply dumbfounded.”
“But you’d soon recover. And then what would you say?”
“Well, gosh.” I patted her hand, which was still on my arm. “That would depend. If it was just conversation, I’d think of something appropriate to keep my end going, and start up the car and proceed. If you actually confronted me with the engravings, I’d have to see how I reacted.”