“So you did.” Wolfe frowned at him, then transferred the frown to June. “So much for that. We’ll get all we can. Now what about Miss Karn?”
“What about her?”
“Who is she, what is she, where is she?”
“I don’t know much about her.” June turned to the lawyer. “You tell him, Glenn.”
“Well...” Prescott rubbed his nose. “She’s a young woman, a year or two short of thirty I should say—”
“Wait a minute!” The interruption came from Sara Dunn, the professional fiend, as she glided up to Wolfe’s desk with something in her hand. “Here, Mr. Wolfe, look at this. I brought it along because I thought it might be needed. That’s her laughing, and the man with her is Uncle Noel. You can borrow it if you want to, but I’ll want it back.”
“Where in the name of heaven,” Mrs. Dunn demanded, “did you get that thing?”
“Oh, I took it one day last spring when I happened to see Uncle in front of Hartlespoon’s, and I knew who it must be with him. They didn’t see me snap it. It’s a good shot, so I had it enlarged.”
“You — you knew—” June was sputtering. “How did you know about that woman?”
“Don’t be a goof, Mom,” said Sara sympathetically. “I wasn’t born deaf, and I’m past twenty-one. You were just my age when you wrote Affairs of a Titmouse. ”