“I do, yes. We’ll get at it shortly. I’m glad you came, Mr. Pitcairn, because it provides an opportunity for a little chat. Of course you are under—”
“I don’t feel like chatting,” Donald said apologetically, and turned and left.
The door closed behind him and we heard his steps across the porch.
“See?” Gus demanded. “That’s him to a T. Papa told him to come and chase you out, and did you hear him?”
“Yes, I heard him. With sensitive people you never know.” Wolfe sighed. “We’d better get on, since I want to get back to the house before Mr. Pitcairn decides to come at us himself. What about him? Not what he’s like, I’ve seen him and spoken with him, but the record — what you know of it. I got the impression this afternoon that he does not share his son’s confusion about the sexes. He can tell a woman from a man?”
“I’ll say he can.” Gus laughed shortly. “With his eyes shut. From a mile off.”
“You say that as if you could prove it.”
Gus had his mouth open to go on, but he shut it. He cocked an eye at Wolfe, tossed me a glance, and regarded Wolfe again.
“Oh,” he said. “Now you want me to prove things.”
“Not at all. I don’t even insist on facts. I’ll take surmises — anything you have.”