“Oh. She’s there. Some day I’m going to break your neck. I want her up here right away, at her home — no, wait. Keep her. I’ll send a man—”
“Don’t bother. I’ll bring her.”
“How soon?”
“Right now. At once. Without delay.”
I rang off and whirled my chair to face the client. “He’s up at your apartment. I suppose they all are. Do we go? I can still tell him I’m shortsighted and it wasn’t you in the chair.”
She rose. She faced Wolfe and she was sagging a little, but then she straightened out the spine. “Thank you,” she said. “If there really isn’t anything...”
“I’m sorry, Miss Frost. Nothing now. Perhaps tomorrow. I’ll get word to you. Don’t resent Mr. Cramer more than you must. He unquestionably means well. Good night.”
I got up and bowed her ahead and through the office door, and snared my hat in the hall as I went by.
I had put the roadster in the garage, so we had to walk there for it. She waited for me at the entrance, and after she got in and I turned into Tenth Avenue, I told her:
“You’ve been getting lefts and rights both, and you’re groggy. Lean back and shut your eyes and breathe deep.”