“Then why did you suddenly start going there?”
“Why — a man goes places, that’s all.”
Wolfe shook his head. “Not in an emotional vacuum. Was it greed or parsimony? Free horseback rides? I doubt it; your income is probably adequate. Mere convenience? No; it was out of your way, quite a bother. My guess, to employ the conventional euphemism, is love. Had you fallen in love with Miss Nichols?”
“No.”
“Then what? I assure you, doctor, I am doing this much more tactfully than the police would. What was it?”
A funny look appeared on Brady’s face. Or a series of looks. First it was denial, then hesitation, then embarrassment, then do or die. All the time his eyes were straight at Wolfe. Suddenly he said, in a voice louder than he had been using, “I had fallen in love with Miss Timms. Violently.”
“Oh!” Maryella exclaimed in amazement. “You certainly never—”
“Don’t interrupt, please,” Wolfe said testily. “Had you notified Miss Timms of your condition?”
“No, I hadn’t.” Brady stuck to his guns. “I was afraid to. She was so — I didn’t suppose — she’s a terrible flirt—”
“That’s not true! You know mighty well—”