“The devil.” Wolfe sighed. “Nothing can be done now. Archie, if you — no. After all, he’s our client. Show him in.”
Chapter 10
Apparently Llewellyn hadn’t come this time, as he had the day before, to pull fat men out of chairs. Nor did he have his lawyer along. He looked a little squashed, and amenable, and his necktie was crooked. He told both of us good morning as if he was counting on our agreeing with him and was in need of that support, and even thanked Wolfe for inviting him to sit down. Then he sat and glanced from one to the other of us as if it was an open question whether he could remember what it was he had come for.
Wolfe said, “You’ve had a shock, Mr. Frost. So have I: Mr. McNair sat in the chair you’re in now when he swallowed the poison.”
Lew Frost nodded. “I know. He died right here.”
“He did indeed. They say that three grains have been known to kill a man in thirty seconds. Mr. McNair took five, or ten. He had convulsions almost immediately, and died within a minute. I offer you condolence. Though you and he were not on the best of terms, still you had known him long. Hadn’t you?”
Llewellyn nodded again. “I had known him about twelve years. We... we weren’t exactly on bad terms...” He halted, and considered. “Well, I suppose we were. Not personal, though. I mean, I don’t think we disliked each other. The fact is, it was nothing but a misunderstanding. I’ve learned only this morning that I was wrong in the chief thing I had against him. I thought he wanted my cousin to marry that fellow Gebert, and now I’ve learned that he didn’t at all. He was dead against it.” Llewellyn considered again. “That... that made me think... I mean, I was all wrong about this. You see, when I came to see you Monday... and last week too... I thought I knew some things. I didn’t say anything about it to you, or Mr. Goodwin here when I was telling him, because I knew I was prejudiced. I didn’t want to accuse anyone. I just wanted you to find out. And I want to say... I want to apologize. My cousin has told me she did see that box of candy, and how and where. It would have been better if she had told you all about it, I can see that. She can too. But the hell of it was I had my mind on another... another... I mean to say, I thought I knew something...”
“I understand, sir.” Wolfe sounded impatient. “You knew that Molly Lauck was enamored of Mr. Perren Gebert. You knew that Mr. Gebert wanted to marry your cousin Helen, and you thought that Mr. McNair favored that idea. You were more than ready to suspect that the genesis of the poisoned candy was that eroto-matrimonial tangle, since you were vitally concerned in it because you wished to marry your cousin yourself.”
Llewellyn stared at him. “Where did you get that idea?” His face began to get red, and he sputtered, “Me marry her? You’re crazy! What kind of a damn fool—”
“Please don’t do that.” Wolfe wiggled a finger at him. “You should know that detectives do sometimes detect — at least some of them do. I don’t say that you intended to marry your cousin, merely that you wanted to. I knew that early in our conversation last Monday afternoon, when you told me that she is your ortho-cousin. There was no reason why so abstruse and unusual a term should have been in the forefront of your mind, as it obviously was, unless you had been so preoccupied with the idea of marrying your cousin, and so concerned as to the custom and propriety of marriage between first cousins, that you had gone into it exhaustively. It was evident that canon law and the Levitical decrees had not been enough for you; you had even ventured into anthropology. Or possibly that had not been enough for someone else — herself, her mother, your father...”