“We had drinks and things, and afterward a buffet dinner served in this room, plenty of wine — my aunt liked wine, and so does Uncle Theodore — finishing up with champagne, and some of us were fairly high, including me. In fact I finally got slightly objectionable, so my aunt said, and I left before the party broke up and went up to my room and made music. Did you ever play the piano while you were lit?”
Wolfe said no.
“Try it sometime. By the way, will you kindly tell me something? Why did one of these women poison my aunt? What for?”
“Speaking for Mr. Lewent, because she was on intimate terms with your uncle and wanted to marry him. Where there is room for a deed there is always room for a motive. That can—”
“You dare!” Mrs. O’Shea blazed. She was back in her chair.
“No, madam, I don’t. I am only trying to learn if there is any cause for daring. Go on, Mr. Thayer?”
Thayer shrugged. “At some hour I quit making music and went to bed. In the morning I was told that my aunt had died, and the way it was described to me — it was quite horrible.”
“Who described it?”
“Miss Marcy, and Mrs. O’Shea some.”
Wolfe’s eyes moved. “You saw it then, Miss Marcy?”