“I feel like it already.” I met her eyes and went on meeting them. “I advise you not to see Nero Wolfe. I’m being disloyal, of course, but I’m naturally treacherous anyhow, and besides, I don’t like the way they’re ganging up on you. I felt that way already, even before I saw you, but now...” I waved a hand.
“Now treachery is sweet.”
“It could be.”
“That’s very nice of you. Why do you advise me not to see Nero Wolfe?”
“Because I know the kind of trap he’s setting. What you should do is get a lawyer, a good one, and let Wolfe deal with him.”
She made a face. “I don’t like lawyers. I know too much about them — I worked for a law firm for three years.”
“You’ll have to hire a lawyer if there’s a contest.”
“I suppose I will. But you said I am threatened by something more dangerous than a contest. That trap Nero Wolfe is setting. What’s that like?”
I grinned at her and shook my head. The maid came with the liquids, and after Miss Karn’s Borrand water was poured and iced I took a sip of my milk. It was a little too cold, and I wrapped the glass with my palms, grinned again, and said, “It certainly is nice and cool here. I’m enjoying myself. Are you?”
“No,” she said, with a sudden and surprising sharpness in her tone, “I am not enjoying myself. A good friend of mine has died — just three days ago. Mr. Noel Hawthorne. Another man whom I regarded as my friend to a certain extent — at least not an enemy — is acting abominably. Mr. Glenn Prescott. He came here last evening and informed me of the terms of the will with a manner and tone that was inexcusable. Now he is openly conspiring with Mr. Hawthorne’s family against me. He sent that Stauffer here to threaten me. He sent you here with your childish babble about traps and treachery. Bah! Is your milk all right?”