“You know damn well I mind.”
“Naturally. Mr. Talento has been called down to the District Attorney’s office. This might possibly save you another trip there.”
He sidestepped, and I went in. The room was the same size and shape as Aland’s, above, and the furniture, though different, was no more desirable. The table against a wall was lopsided — probably the one that Jewel Jones hoped they had fixed for him. I took a chair at its end, and he took another and sat frowning at me.
“Haven’t I seen you before?” he wanted to know.
“Sure, we were here with the dog.”
“I mean before that. Wasn’t it you in Nero Wolfe’s office yesterday?”
“That’s right.”
“How come?”
I raised my brows. “Haven’t you got the lines crossed, Mr. Meegan? I’m here to ask questions, not to answer them. I was in Wolfe’s office on business. I often am. Now—”
“He’s a fat, arrogant halfwit!”