“Certainly. He died ardently. I repeat that because I like it. If you make a conjecture from it, all the better as preparation for you. I do not advise your spending the night with a friend on account of any danger to yourself, for there is none. In fact, there is no danger left for anyone, except as I embody it. But you must know that if you go home you won’t get much sleep. The police will be clamoring for minutiae; they are probably bullying your family at this moment, and it would only be common sense to save yourself from that catechism. Tomorrow morning I could inform you of developments.”
She shook her head again. “No.” She sounded decisive. “I’ll go home. I don’t want to run away... I just came here... and anyhow, mother and Lew and my uncle... no. I’ll go home. But if you could only tell me... please, Mr. Wolfe, please... if you could tell me something so I would know...”
“I can’t. Not now. I promise you, soon. In the meantime—”
The phone rang. I swiveled and got it. Right away I was in a scrap. Some sap with a voice like a foghorn was going to have me put Wolfe on the wire immediately and no fooling, without bothering to tell me who it was that wanted him. I derided him until he boomed at me to hold it. After waiting a minute I heard another voice, one I recognized at once:
“Goodwin? Inspector Cramer. Maybe I don’t need Wolfe. I’d hate to disturb him. Is Helen Frost there?”
“Who? Helen Frost?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Why should she be? Do you think we run a night shift? Wait a minute, I didn’t know it was you, I think Mr. Wolfe wants to ask you something.” I smothered the transmitter and turned: “Inspector Cramer wants to know if Miss Frost is here.”
Wolfe lifted his shoulders half an inch and dropped them. Our client said, “Of course. Tell him yes.”
I told the phone, “No, Wolfe can’t think of anything you’d be likely to know. But if you mean Miss Helen Frost, I just saw her here in a chair.”