Uh-huh, I thought, he’s not only going to make a monkey of Cramer, he’s going to give him a real black eye. Daniel muttered something, and so did Brady, but Wolfe silenced them with a gesture.
“For your satisfaction,” he went on, “I ought to tell you, Miss Nichols, that your guilt was by no means obvious. I became aware of it only when Mr. Goodwin telephoned me from Riverdale this morning, though I did of course notice Mr. Larry Huddleston’s hexagonal watch when he came here nine days ago, and I surmised your picture had been in it. But your performance today was the act of a nitwit. I presume you were struck with consternation yesterday when you saw that turf being removed, realized what the consequences would be, and attempted to divert suspicion by staging an attack on yourself. Did you know what I was getting at a while ago when I asked Dr. Brady why you didn’t jerk the brush away the instant you felt the glass puncture your skin? And he replied, as of course he would, that you didn’t feel the glass cutting you?”
She didn’t answer.
“That,” Wolfe said, “was precisely the point, that you did jerk the brush away when you had pulled it along your arm less than an inch, because you knew the glass was there and was cutting you, having put it there yourself. Otherwise the cut would have been much longer, probably half the length of your arm. You saw Mr. Goodwin wield the brush as an illustration, sweeping from wrist to shoulder. Everyone does that. At least, no one moves the brush less than an inch and stops. But even without that, your performance today was fantastic, if you meant — as you did — to make it appear as an attempt by some other person to kill you. Such a person would have known that after what had happened, even if you used the bogus iodine, you would certainly have antitoxin administered, which would have made the attempt a fiasco. Whereas you, arranging the affair yourself, knew that a dose of antitoxin would save you from harm. You really—”
“Stop it!” Janet said, in exactly the same tone as before. I couldn’t look at her.
But that was a mistake, not looking at her. For completely without warning she turned into a streak of lightning. It was so sudden and swift that I was still in my chair when she grabbed the sliver of glass from Wolfe’s desk, and by the time I got going she had whirled and gone through the air straight at Larry Huddleston, straight at his face with the piece of glass in her fingers. Everyone else moved too, but no one fast enough, not even Larry. Daniel got his arms around her, her left arm pinned against her, and I got her other arm, including the wrist, but there was a reel streak across Larry’s cheek from beneath his eye nearly to his chin.
Everybody but Janet was making noises, some of which were words.
“Shut up!” Wolfe said gruffly. “Archie, if you’ve finished your nap—”
“Go to hell,” I told him. “I’m not a genius like you.” I gave Janet’s wrist a little pressure. “Drop it, girlie.”
She let the piece of glass fall to the floor and stood rigid, watching. Brady examined Larry’s cheek.