I didn’t want my mother and my uncle to come down here, but my cousin Lew lost his head as usual, he’s always getting scared about me anyhow, as if I didn’t have brains enough to take care of myself. You merely tricked me into saying something—I don’t know what—that gave you a chance to pretend—” “But, Miss Frost.” Wolfe had a palm up at her. “Your cousin Lew is perfectly correct. I mean, about your brains. —No, permit me! Let me save time. I won’t repeat verbatim what was said yesterday; you know as well as I do. I shall merely assert that the words you said, and the way you said them, make it apodictical that you knew the contents of that particular box of candy before Miss Mitchell removed the lid.” “That isn’t true! I didn’t say—” “Oh, but you did.” Wolfe’s tone sharpened. “Understand me. Confound it, do you think I’ll squabble with a chit like you? Or do you expect your loveliness to paralyze my intelligence? —Archie. Take this on the typewriter, please. One carbon. Letter-size, headed at the top, Alternative Statements for Helen Frost.”
I swiveled around and swung the machine up and got the paper in. “Shoot.” Wolfe dictated:
“1. I admit that I knew the contents of the box of candy, and am ready to explain to Nero Wolfe how I knew, truthfully and in detail.
“2. I admit that I knew the contents. I refuse for the present to explain, but am ready to submit to questioning by Nero Wolfe on any other matters, reserving the right to withhold replies at my discretion.
“3. I admit that I knew the contents, but refuse to continue the conversation.
“4. I deny that I knew the contents.” Wolfe sat up. “Thank you, Archie. No, I’ll take the carbon; the original to Miss Frost.” He turned to her. “Read them over, please. —You observe the distinctions? Here’s a pen; I would like you to initial one of them. One moment.
First I should tell you, I am willing to accept either number one or number two.
I will not accept either of the others. If you choose number three or number four, I shall have to resign the commission I have undertaken for your cousin, and take certain steps at once.” She wasn’t a goddess any more; she was too flustered for a goddess. But it took her only a few seconds to collect enough sense to see that she was only gumming the works by fiddling with the paper. She looked level at Wolfe: “I…I don’t have to initial anything. Why should I initial anything?” The spots of color appeared again. “It’s all a trick and you know it! Anybody that’s clever enough can ask people questions and trick them around to some kind of an answer that sounds like—” “Miss Frost! Please. Do you mean to stick to your absurd denial?” “Certainly I stick to it, and there’s nothing absurd about it. I can warn you, too, when my cousin Lew—” Wolfe’s head pivoted and he snapped, “Archie. Get Mr. Cramer.” I pulled my phone across and dialed the number. They switched me to the extension and I got the clerk and asked for Inspector Cramer. For the sake of Wolfe’s cake that had to have a hot griddle right then, I was hoping he wouldn’t be out, and he wasn’t. His voice boomed at me in the receiver: “Hello! Hello, Goodwin! You got something?” “Inspector Cramer? Hold the wire. Mr. Wolfe wants to speak to you.” I gave Wolfe a nod and he reached for his instrument. But the chit was on her feet, looking mad enough to eat nettle salad. Before lifting his receiver Wolfe said to her: “As a courtesy, you may have a choice. Do you wish Mr. Goodwin to take you to police headquarters, or shall Mr. Cramer send for you?” Her voice at him was a croak: “Don’t…don’t…” She grabbed up the pen and wrote her name under statement number two on tie paper. She was so mad her hand trembled. Wolfe spoke into the phone: “Mr. Cramer? How do you do. I was wondering if you have arrived at any conclusions from this morning… Indeed…I wouldn’t say that…No, I haven’t, but I’ve started a line of inquiry which may develop into something later… No, nothing for you now; as you know, I fancy my own discretion in these matters…You must leave that to me, sir…” When he hung up, Helen Frost was sitting down again, looking at him with her chin up and her lips pushed together. Wolfe picked up the paper and glanced at it, handed it across to me, and settled back in his chair. He reached forward to ring for beer, and settled back again.
“So. Miss Frost, you have acknowledged that you possess information regarding an implement of murder which you refuse to disclose. I wish to remind you that I have not engaged to keep that acknowledgment confidential. For the present I shall do so; I am not committing myself beyond that. Do you know the police mind? One of its first and most constant assumptions is that any withheld knowledge regarding a crime is guilty knowledge. It is a preposterous assumption, but they hug it to their bosoms. For instance, if they knew what you have just signed, they would proceed on the theory that you either put the poison in the candy or know who did. I shall not do that. But as a matter of form I shall ask the question: did you poison that candy?” She was pretty good, at that. She answered in a calm voice that was only pinched a little, “No. I didn’t.” “Do you know who did?” “No.” “Are you engaged to be married?” She compressed her lips. “That is none of your business.” Wolfe said patiently, “I shall have to ask you about many things which you will regard as none of my business. Really, Miss Frost, it is foolish of you to irritate me unnecessarily. The question I just asked is completely innocuous; any of your friends could probably answer it; why shouldn’t you? Do you imagine this is a friendly chat we are having? By no means. It is a very one-sided affair. I am forcing you to reply to questions by threatening to turn you over to the police if you don’t. Are you engaged to be married?” She was cracking a little. Her fists were clenched in her lap, and she looked smaller, as if she had shrunk, and her eyes got so damp that finally a tear formed in the corner of each one and dripped out. Without paying any attention to them, she said to Wolfe, looking at him, “You’re a dirty fat beast.
You…you…” He nodded. “I know. I ask questions of women only when it is unavoidable, because I abominate hysterics. Wipe your eyes.” She didn’t move. He sighed. “Are you engaged to be married?” Tears of rage were also in her voice. “I am not.” “Did you buy that diamond on your finger?” She glanced at it involuntarily. “No.” “Who gave it to you?” “Mr. McNair.” “And the one set in your vanity case—who gave you that one?” “Mr. McNair.” “Astonishing. I wouldn’t have supposed you cared for diamonds.” Wolfe opened a bottle of beer and filled his glass. “You mustn’t mind me, Miss Frost. I mean, my seeming inconsequence. A servant girl named Anna Fiore sat in that chair once and conversed with me for five hours. The Duchess of Rathkyn did so for most of a night. I am apt to poke into almost any comer, and I beg you to bear with me.” He lifted the glass and emptied it in par. “For instance, this diamond business is curious. Do you like them?” “I don’t…not ordinarily.” “Is Mr. McNair fond of them? Does he make gifts of them more or less at random?”
“Not that I know of.” “And although you don’t Wee them, you wear these out of…respect for Mr.
McNair? Affection for an old friend?” “I wear them because I happen to feel like it.” “Just so. You see, I know very little about Mr. McNair. Is he married?” “As I told you, he is an old friend of my mother’s. A lifelong friend. He had a daughter about my age, a month or so older, but she died when she was two years old. His wife had died before, when the baby was born. Mr. McNair is the finest man I have ever known. He is…he is my best friend.” “And yet he puts diamonds on you. You must forgive my harping on the diamonds; I happen to dislike them. —Oh, yes, I meant to ask, do you know anyone else who is fond of Jordan almonds?” “Anybody else?” “Besides Mr. McNair.” “No, I don’t.” Wolfe poured more beer and, leaving the foam to settle, leaned back and frowned at his victim. “You know, Miss Frost, it is time something was said to you. In your conceit, you are assuming, for your youth and inexperience, a terrific responsibility. Molly Lauck died nine days ago, probably through bungling of someone’s effort to kill another person. During all that time you have possessed knowledge which, handled with competence and dispatch, might do something much more important than wreak vengeance; it might save a life, and it is even possible that the life would be one worth saving. What do you think; isn’t that responsibility pretty heavy for you? I have too much sense to try coercion.