“I told you, deduction.”
The sylph sat, pale, and stared at him. She opened her mouth a couple of times, but closed it without speaking. Thelma Mitchell horned in:
“She didn’t say she knew positively there were no caramels in it. She only said—”
Wolfe put up a palm at her. “You being loyal, Miss Mitchell? For shame. The first loyalty here is to the dead. Mr. Frost dragged me here because Molly Lauck died. He hired me to find out how and why. — Well, sir? Didn’t you?”
Frost sputtered, “I didn’t hire you to play damn fool tricks with a couple of nervous girls. You damn fat imbecile — listen! I already know more about this business than you’d ever find out in a hundred years! If you think I’m paying you — now what? Where you going? What’s the game now? You get back in that chair I say—”
Wolfe had arisen, without haste, and moved around the table, going sideways past Thelma Mitchell’s feet, and Frost had jumped up and started the motions of a stiff arm at him.
I got upright and stepped across. “Don’t shove, mister.” I would just as soon have plugged him, but he would have had to drop on a lady. “Subside, please. Come on, back up.”
He gave me a bad eye, but let that do. Wolfe had sidled by, towards the door, and at that moment there was a knock on it and it opened, and the handsome woman in the black dress with white buttons appeared. She moved in.
“Excuse me, please.” She glanced around, composed, and settled on me. “Can you spare Miss Frost? She is needed downstairs. And Mr. McNair says you wish to speak with me. I can give you a few minutes now.”
I looked at Wolfe. He bowed to the woman, his head moving two inches. “Thank you, Mrs. Lamont. It won’t be necessary. We have made excellent progress; more than could reasonably have been expected — Archie. Did you pay for the beer? Give Mr. Frost a dollar. That should cover it.”