Rex Stout - Red Box, The

I preceded him to open the office door. He moved across to his desk more deliberately even than usual, circled around Miss Frost in her chair, and, before he lowered himself, inclined his head toward her without saying anything.

She leveled her brown eyes at him, and I could see that by gum she was holding the fort and she was going to go on holding it. I got at ease in my chair with my notebook, not trying to camouflage it.

Wolfe asked her politely, “You wished to see me, Miss Frost?”

Her eyes bulged a little. She said indignantly, “I? You sent that man to bring me here.”

“Ah, so I did.” Wolfe sighed. “Now that you are here, have you anything in particular to say to me?”

She opened her mouth and shut it again, and then said simply, “No.”

Wolfe heaved another sigh. He leaned back in his chair and made a movement to clasp his hands on his front middle, then remembered that it was too soon after lunch and let them drop on the arms of his chair. With half-shut eyes he sat comfortable, motionless.

At length he murmured at her, “How old are you?”

“I'll be twenty-one in May.”

“Indeed. What day in May?”

“The seventh.”

“I understand that you call Mr. McNair ‘Uncle Boyd.’ Your cousin told me that.

Is he your uncle?”

“Why, no. Of course not. I just call him that.”

“Have you known him a long while?”

“All my life. He is an old friend of my mother's.”

“You would know his preferences then. In candy, for instance. What kind does he prefer?”

She lost color, but she was pretty good with her eyes and voice. She didn't bat a lash. “I…I don't know. Really. I couldn't say…”

“Come, Miss Frost.” Wolfe kept his tone easy. “I am not asking you to divulge some esoteric secret guarded by you alone. On this sort of detail many people may be consulted-any of Mr. McNair's intimates, many of his acquaintances, the servants at his home, the shops where he buys candy if he does buy it. If, for example, he happens to prefer Jordan almonds, those persons could tell me. I happen at the moment to be consulting you. Is there any reason why you should try to conceal this point?”

“Of course not.” She hadn't got her color back. “I don't need to conceal anything.” She swallowed. “Mr. McNair does like Jordan almonds, that's perfectly true.” Suddenly the color did appear, a spot on her cheek that showed how quick her blood was. “But I didn't come here to talk about the kinds of candy that people like. I came here to tell you that you were entirely wrong about what I said yesterday.”

“Then you do have something in particular to say to me.”

“Certainly I have.” She was wanning up. “That was just a trick and you know it.

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…”