rules in the past three days that it must have given him real satisfaction to be able to stick to one. He had been introduced to Alma, and to Carol and Flora, when we arrived.
'Come and get it,' Alma said, 'before the grease sets.' She had probably heard that summons to a meal before she grew teeth.
Mel went to wash his hands and the rest of us went to the dining room, which had been added on at Carol's request when Lily had had things done to the house. There was plenty of room at the long table; there were times when as many as four or five extra men had to be fed. Wolfe was put between Carol and Alma, and I was across from him and had a good view of his reaction to the tomato soup out of a can. He got it down all right, all of it, and the only thing noticeable was noticed only by me: that he carefully did not permit me to catch his eye. Flora was with us, between Mel and Emmett, and she helped Carol and Alma take out the soup plates and bring in dishes of mashed potatoes, string beans, and creamed onions. Then the real Montana trout deal, served by Carol and Alma from big trays. The longest and biggest foil bundle went to Wolfe. I had told him you didn't transfer it onto your plate; you just opened it up and pitched in. Which he did, after the women had sat and started theirs. His was a fine fish, a fat fifteen-inch rainbow Lily had caught, which she had shown me with pride, and I hoped it was cooked through. He used his knife and fork on it expertly, conveyed a bite to his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and said, 'Remarkable.'
That settled it; I would have to hit him for a raise. If redeeming me was worth that, I was being underpaid.
Chapter 9
Nero Wolfe said to Woodrow Stepanian, 'No. After full consideration I might agree with you. I meant only what I said, that a majority of your fellow citizens would not.'
It was twenty minutes to nine. We were in the middle section of the Hall of Culture, called the Gallery by Lily. The doors to the sections you had to pay to enter were both closed; the movie wasn't over and the romp hadn't started. Only one fact of importance had been acquired at the Bar JR: that trout baked in foil with ham, brown sugar, onions, and Worcestershire sauce was digestible. If we had got one from Mel or Emmett or Pete I didn't know it. I had got one from Saul Panzer, when I had called him on the Greves' phone. If Philip Brodell, on his visits to New York, had ever run into Diana Kadany or Wade Worthy, Saul had found no trace of it and thought the chance that there was one to be found was slim.
What Wolfe was saying he might agree with was something Woody had said regarding one of the items hanging on the wall back of Woody's desk-a big card in a homemade frame which said in homemade lettering by Woody:
'ALL RIGHT, THEN,
I'LL GO TO HELL'
Huckleberry Finn
by Mark Twain
Wolfe had asked why that had been chosen for display in a frame and Woody had said because he thought it was the greatest sentence in American literature. Wolfe had asked why he thought that, and Woody had replied because it said the most important thing about America, that no man had to let anybody else decide things for him, and what made it such a wonderful sentence was that it wasn't a man who said it, it was a boy who had never read any books, and that showed that he was born with it because he was American.
I had an errand to do, but I stayed to listen because I thought I might learn something either about America or about literature. When Wolfe said that a majority of Woody's fellow citizens wouldn't agree with him Woody asked him what they would regard as a greater sentence, and Wolfe said, 'I could suggest a dozen or more, but the most likely one is also displayed on your wall.' He pointed to the framed Declaration of Indepedence. ' 'All men are created equal.' '
Woody nodded. 'Of course that's great, but it's a lie. With all respect. It's a good lie for a good purpose, but it's a lie.'
'Not in that context. As a biological premise it would be worse than a lie, it would be absurd, but as a weapon in a mortal combat it was potent and true. It was meant not to convince but to confound.' Wolfe pointed again. 'What's that?'
'That' was another hand-lettered item in a frame, but I can't show it to you because I didn't have a camera with me. Apparently it was eight or nine words, but what kind? The two words below, smaller, were 'Stephen Orbelian.'
'That is older,' Woody said. 'About seven hundred years old. I'm not sure it is great, but I have much affection for it because it is very subtle. It was written by that man, Stephen Orbelian, in ancient classical Armenian, and it says simply, 'I love my country because it is mine.' But of course it is not simple at all. It is very subtle. It means more different things than you would think possible for only eight words. With all respect, may I ask if you agree?'
Wolfe grunted. 'I agree that it's subtle. Extraordinary. Let's sit and discuss it.'
