Wolfe lifted his shoulders an eighth of an inch and let them down. “Then it was no disservice to lead him here. I don’t pretend that I’m not impressed by the dispatch and boldness with which you grasped the opportunity.” His eyes moved to Meta. “And I assure you, Mrs. Vukcic, that the grotesque table decoration served with the coffee has not diminished our gratitude for an excellent meal. I speak for Mr. Goodwin too, because he has none of your words.” He returned to Danilo and sharpened his tone. “If I may return to my affair? I must see Josip Pasic.”
“He can’t come,” Danilo said bluntly.
“I ask you to reconsider.”
“No.”
“Then I’ll have to go to him. Where is he?”
“That’s impossible. I can’t tell you.”
Wolfe was patient. “You can’t? Or you won’t?”
“I’m not going to.” Danilo put his hands flat on the table. “For the sake of my uncle, Mr. Nero Wolfe, I have shaken your hand and so has my wife, and we have shared bread with you. But for the sake of what he believed in and supported, I will not run the risk of betraying one of our most carefully guarded secrets. It is not necessary to question your good faith; your rashness is enough. You may already have been recognized.”
Wolfe snorted. “In this outlandish getup? Nonsense. Besides, I have arranged for a diversion. Paolo Telesio communicates with you by mail, using this address, and those communications are intercepted by the secret police and inspected before they are delivered to you; and you and Telesio, knowing that, have occasionally taken advantage of it. Is that true?”
Danilo was frowning. “Apparently Paolo has higher regard for your discretion than I have.”