Wolfe grunted. In a moment he grunted again and turned to me.
“Archie. Miss Nieder’s glass is empty. So is Mr. Demarest’s. See to it, please.”
He leaned back, shut his eyes, and began making little circles on the arm of his chair with the tip of his forefinger. He was flummoxed good, his nose pushed right in level with his face.
I performed as host. Since Demarest’s requirement was another Tom Collins it took a little time, but Polly Zarella took none at all since she had shown herself capable of pouring the Tokay herself. Apparently the statement about Cynthia’s superiority, out loud for people to hear, had made Roper thirsty, for this time he accepted my offer and chose B & B. In between, glances at Wolfe showed that he was working, and working hard, for his lips were pushing out and then pulling in, out and in, out and in....
I finished the replenishing and resumed my seat.
Wolfe half opened his eyes.
“So,” he said conversationally, as if he were merely stating a new paragraph with the continuity intact, “naturally the police are specially interested in Miss Nieder, since she alone, of those who have keys, is vulnerable. By the way, Mr. Daumery, how did it happen that Miss Nieder wasn’t invited to that conference? Isn’t she a half-owner?”
“I represented her interests,” Demarest stated.
“But before long she’ll probably be representing herself. Shouldn’t she be consulted on important matters?”
Bernard spoke. “Damn it, isn’t it obvious? If she had been there we couldn’t have handled Roper at all. He can’t bear the sight of her.”