“This is outrageous!” She turned and started off.
She was quite a sketch. As independent as a hog on ice. I took a hop, skip and jump, and planted the frame square in front of her. “Listen. You’re more childish even than your cousin Lew. I merely need, in performance of my duty, to ask you a couple of questions. You’re on your way to get something to eat. I’m hungry and have to eat myself sooner or later. I can’t invite you to lunch, because I wouldn’t be allowed to put it on my expense account, but I can sit at a table with you for four minutes and then go elsewhere to eat if that is your desire. I am a self-made man, and am a roughneck but not rowdy. I graduated from high school at the age of seventeen and only a few months ago I gave two dollars to the Red Cross.”
On account of my firm aggressive talk people were looking at us, and she knew it. She said, “I eat at Moreland’s, around the corner on Madison. You can ask your questions there.”
One trick in. Moreland’s was one of those dumps where they slice roast beef as thin as paper and specialize in vegetable plates. I let Helen Frost find a table, and trailed along and slid into a chair opposite her after she had sat down.
She looked at me and said, “Well?”
I said, “The waitress will hover. Order your lunch.”
“I can order later. What do you want?”
A sketch all right. But I stayed pleasant. “I want to take you to 918 West 35th Street for a conversation with Nero Wolfe.”
She stared at me. “That’s ridiculous. What for?”
I said mildly, “We have to be there at two o’clock, so we haven’t much time. Really, Miss Frost, it would be much more human if you’d get something to eat and let me do the same, while I explain. I’m not something revolting, like a radio crooner or an agent for the Liberty League.”