“There is no reason to tell me. I am not concerned.” He pointed to the knife and trowel, still on his desk. “Where did you get those things?”
“Bought them.”
“Please put them somewhere. They are not to appear on the expense account.”
“Then I’ll keep them in my room.”
“Do so. By all means. Please take a letter to Mr. Hoehn.”
His tone said, and that’s the end of Miss Huddleston and her affairs for this office, for you, and for me.
No doubt it would have been, except for his vanity. Or perhaps it wasn’t vanity; it may be that the reason he permitted his privacy to be invaded again by brother Daniel was that he wanted to impress on him the desirability of getting the bill of the Fisher Laboratories paid as soon as possible. At any rate, when Daniel turned up some hours later, a little before seven that evening, Fritz was told to bring him to the office. At first sight of him I knew he had something, by the look in his eye and the set of his jaw. He tramped over to Wolfe’s desk and announced:
“My sister was murdered.”
He got an envelope from his pocket, took out a paper and unfolded it, and fumbled the job because his hands were trembling. He swayed a little, steadied himself with a hand on the edge of the desk, looked around for a chair, and sat down.
“I guess I’m a little weak from excitement,” he said apologetically. “Then I had only an apple for breakfast, and I haven’t eaten anything since.”