“It does indeed,” Wolfe agreed without a quiver. His eyes moved. “You verify that, Mr. Daumery? All of it as told?”
“I do,” Bernard said.
“Do you, Miss Zarella?”
“Oh, yes!”
“Do you, Mr. Roper?”
“I do not,” Roper declared, his grease oozing bitterness. “To say that Miss Nieder is vastly my superior is absolutely absurd. I have in my possession three books of clippings from Women’s Wear Daily, Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, Glamor—”
“No doubt,” Wolfe conceded. “We’ll allow your exception to that part. Do you verify Mr. Demarest’s account of what happened last evening?”
“No. There wasn’t the slightest necessity of ‘calming me down,’ as he put it. I merely wanted—”
“Confound it, were you four people together, with Mrs. Demarest, from seven-thirty till after midnight?”
“Yes, we were.”