her.
She spoke for the first time: 'No, certainly.' She sounded darned unconcerned for a girl who had just escaped being thrown in the hoosegow as a sneak thief. Almost indifferent, as if her mind was on something else: 'I will make no trouble.'
The lawyer pounced on her. 'Then, Miss Tormic, if you feel that way, surely you have no objection to signing-'
'Damn it, let her alone!' It was his own client tripping him up. Driscoll glared at him. 'Damn a lawyer anyway! If I'd had the nerve to face it, I'd have done just as well if I'd come alone!' He confronted Miltan. 'Now I've apologized! I'm sorry! I'm damn sorry! I like this place. I've been overweight for years. I'm damn near fat! I've monkeyed around with exercises and health farms and damn fool games throwing a ball and riding a horse as tall as a skyscraper, and the first thing I've ever done to sweat that is any fun is what I do here! I may be a rotten fencer, but I like it! I don't care whether Miss Tormic signs a paper or not. I want to be friends with Miltan!' He whirled. 'Miss Lovchen! I want to be friends with you! Miss Tormic is your friend and I acted like a damn fool. I am a damn fool. Will you fence with me or won't you? I mean right now!'
Somebody snickered. People moved. The lawyer looked dignified. Carla said, 'I work for Mr Miltan. I'll follow his instructions.' Miltan said something conciliatory and diplomatic, and it was apparent that Mr Driscoll wasn't going to be deprived of his fun. I faded into the background. The chinless wonder, whose name I hadn't got, a blond guy with thin lips and an aggressive nose who stood and walked like a soldier, went up to Neya with a thin smile and said something evidently meant to be agreeable, and was followed by Donald Barrett for a similar performance. Mrs Miltan crossed to her and patted her on the shoulder, and then she was approached by Percy Ludlow. They spoke together a minute, and she left him and headed for me.
I grinned at her. 'Well, a pretty good show. I hope you didn't mind my horning in. Nero Wolfe never lets a client sign anything except a cheque drawn to his order.'
'I don't mind. I say good-bye. I am going to fence with Mr Ludlow. Thank you for coming.'
'Your eyes glitter.'
'My eyes? They always glitter.'
'Any message for your father?'
'I think-not now. No.'
'You ought to run down and say hallo to him.'
'I will some day. Au revoir, then.'
'So-long.'
Turning to go, she bumped into the lawyer and he apologized profusely. That accomplished, he addressed me:
'Could I have your name, sir?'
I told him.
He repeated it. 'Archie Goodwin. Thank you. If I may ask, in what capacity do you represent Miss Tormic?'
I was exasperated. 'Look here,' I said, 'I am willing to stipulate that a lawyer has a right to live, and I'm aware that even when he's dead no worm will enter his coffin because if it did he'd make it sign some kind of a paper. I suppose if you don't get that thing signed you'll have a tantrum. Give it to me.'
From the envelope, which he was still clutching in his hand, he extracted the document and handed it over. A glance showed me that his two informal sentences were, in fact, five legal-sized paragraphs. I got out my pen and with a quick flourish signed on the dotted line at the bottom: 'Queen Victoria.'
'There,' I said, and shoved it at him and moved off before he could react, considering how dignity slows a man up.
The room was about empty. Miltan's wife was over by a desk, talking with Belinda Reade. Carla Lovchen, along with the others, had disappeared, presumably to let the rich fat man enjoy some fun. He must have been a pip of a swordsman, I reflected, as I got my hat and coat from the rack and meandered to the hall and out the street door to the sidewalk.
My wrist-watch told me it was a quarter to six. Wolfe would still be up in the plant rooms, and he wasn't enthusiastic about being disturbed regarding business while there, but I considered that this wasn't business, properly speaking, but a family matter. So I found a drugstore with a phone booth and called the number.
'Hallo, Mr Wolfe? Mr Goodwin speaking.'
'Well?'
'Well, I'm in a drugstore at 48th and Lexington. It's all over. It was a farce in three acts. First she, meaning your daughter, seemed to be more bored than bothered. Second, a chap named Percy said she was frisking his coat for cigarettes, not Driscoll's for diamonds, which appeared to be news to her, judging from her expression. Third act, enter Driscoll with a trouble hound and a written apology. There hadn't been any diamonds in his coat. None had been stolen. His mistake. Sorry and damn sorry. So I'm headed for home. I may add that she doesn't resemble you a particle and she is very good-look-'
'You're sure it's clear?'
'It's cleared up. Settled. I wouldn't say it's entirely clear.'
'You went there with two problems. What about the second one?'
'No light on it. Not a glimmer. No chance to sniff around on it. There was a mob present, and when the meeting broke up both Balkans went off to give fencing lessons.'
'Who is the man named Percy?'
