Wolfe folded the sheets and returned them to his pocket, and looked up.
“It is a capital U in Uncle,” he announced.
Polly Zarella and Cynthia both had tears in their eyes.
Polly jumped to her feet, brushing the tears away without bothering about a handkerchief, and faced Jean Daumery with her eyes blazing. “I quit!” she shrieked. “I give you two weeks’ notice before people! You said I’ll have to put up with you but I won’t! There will be a new business, Zarella and Nieder, and Cynthia and I will show you! You and Ward Roper to compete with us? Phut!”
Her spitting at him seemed to be unintentional, merely coming out with the phut.
“Confound it, madam, sit down,” Wolfe grumbled.
Polly darted to Cynthia and was apparently going to begin arrangements for the new partnership then and there, but the sound of Jean Daumery’s voice sidetracked her.
“I see,” Jean said calmly. He had tightened up. “You got me down here to accuse me of murdering my wife, with that hysterical letter from Paul Nieder to back it up. This is absolutely fantastic!”
Wolfe nodded. “It would be,” he agreed, “so that’s not what I’m doing. I don’t waste time on fantasy. I read that letter only for background. To get down to our real business: when and where did you last see Mr. Nieder?”
Jean shook his head. “From fantasy to fact? Our business? When and where I did this or that is certainly my business, but not yours. You were going to tell me facts.”