She stepped to me and had a hand on my arm. “Archie. Where did you see the picture?”
“I’ll tell you on the way down. Let’s go.”
She gave the arm a gentle tug. “You don’t have to wait out here. Come in and sit down.” Another tug, just as gentle. “Come on.”
I patted her fingers, not wishing to be boorish. “Sorry,” I told her, “but I’m afraid of young mares. One kicked me once.”
She turned and disappeared into the apartment, leaving the door standing open.
VI
“Don’t call me Mrs. Meegan!” Jewel Jones cried.
Wolfe was in as bad a humor as she was. True, she had been hopelessly cornered, with no weapons within reach, but he had been compelled to tell Fritz to postpone lunch until further notice.
“I was only,” he said crustily, “stressing the fact that your identity is not a matter for discussion. Legally you are Mrs. Richard Meegan. That understood, I’ll call you anything you say. Miss Jones?”
“Yes.” She was on the red leather chair, but not in it. Just on its edge, she looked as if she were set to spring up and scoot any second.