“That will do,” Cramer growled.
“Good. Then I’ll proceed. I was just starting to explain to these ladies the manner and extent of my progress in an investigation I’m on.”
“Go ahead.”
From there on Wolfe ignored Cramer completely. He looked at Julie and Mrs. Whitten. “What persuaded me,” he said conversationally, “of Mr. Pompa’s innocence, and who engaged me to prove it, are details of no importance. Neither is it important why, when Mr. Goodwin wanted to contrive an entree to Mrs. Whitten, he hit on the stratagem of saying he wished to speak with her on behalf of Miss Alving.”
Julie made a sound.
“Oh, it was a lie,” he told her. “We use a great many of them in this business, sometimes calculated with great care, sometimes quite at random. This one was extremely effective. It got Mr. Goodwin admitted to Mrs. Whitten at once, though she was in bed with a gash in her side, having just narrowly escaped from an attempt on her life.”
Cramer let out a growl, no doubt involuntary, and stood up. Wolfe ignored him and went on to his female audience.
“That, of course, is news to Mr. Cramer, and there will be more for him, but since he’s merely waiting to see me I’ll finish with you ladies. The success—”
“You not only lie,” Mrs. Whitten said harshly, “you break your promise. You promised that if we answered your questions you wouldn’t report the attack on me to the police.”
“No,” Wolfe said curtly. “I do not break promises. It was implied, not explicit, and it was without term, and assuredly not for eternity. Certainly I could not be expected to keep that information to myself if and when it became necessary evidence for the disclosure of a murderer. It has now become necessary.”