he merely murmured a question:
'So you don't know when your brother left the house? Left here to go to Pratt's?'
'No.' She stirred a little, and was still again, and re- peated, 'No.'
'That's a pity. Didn't he tell you or your mother that he was going to Pratt's?'
'So far as I know, he told no one.'
There was an interruption, a knock at the door. I went to it and took from Pug-nose a tray with three bottles of beer, felt one and approved of the temperature, and taxied them across to Wolfe. He, opening and pouring, asked Nancy if she would have, and she declined with thanks. He drank, put down the empty glass, and wiped his lips with his hand- kerchief.
'Now Miss Osgood,' he said in a new tone.' 'I have more questions to ask of you, but this next is probably the most material of all. When did your brother tell you how and why he expected to win his bet with Mr. Pratt?'
She stared a second and said, 'He didn't tell me at all. What makes you think he did?' It sounded straight to me.
'I thought it likely. Your father says that you and your brother were very close to each other.'
'We were.'
'But he told you nothing of that wager?'
'He didn't have to tell me he made it, I heard him. He didn't tell me how or why he expected to win it.'
'What was discussed as you rode home from Pratt's yes- terday?'
'I don't know. Nothing in particular.'
'Remarkable. The bizarre wager which had just been made wasn't mentioned?'
'No. Mr. Bronson was… well, it only takes a couple of minutes to drive here from Pratt's-'
'Mr. Bronson was what?'
'Nothing. He was there, that's all.'
'Is he an old friend of your brother's?'
'He's not-no. Not an old friend.'
'But a friend, I presume, since you and your brother brought him here?'
'Yes.' She clipped it. She was terrible.
'Is he a friend of yours too?'
'No.' She raised her voice a little. 'Why should you ask me about Mr. Bronson?'
'My dear child.' Wolfe compressed his lips. 'For heaven's sake don't start that. I am a hired instrument of vengeance… hired by your father. Nowadays an Erinys wears a coat and trousers and drinks beer and works for pay, but the function is unaltered and should still be performed, if at all, mercilessly. I am going to find out who killed your brother. A part of the operation is to prick all available facts. I in- tend to look into Mr. Bronson as well as everyone else un- lucky enough to be within range. For example, take Miss Pratt. Did you approve of your brother's engagement to marry Miss Caroline Pratt?'
She stared in consternation, opened her mouth, and closed it.
Wolfe shook his head at her. 'I'm not being wily, to dis- concert you and corner you. I don't think I need to; you have made yourself too vulnerable. To give you an idea, here are some questions I shall expect you to answer: Why, since you regard Mr. Bronson with loathing, do you permit him to remain as a guest in this house? I know you loathe him, because when he happened to brush against you yesterday on Mr. Pratt's terrace you drew away as if slime had touched your dress. Why would you prefer to have the mystery of your brother's death unsolved and to leave the onus to the bull? I know you would, from the relief on your face this afternoon when your father's incivility started me to the door. Why did you tell me that you didn't see your brother after dinner last evening? I know it was a lie, because I was hearing and seeing you when you said it. You see how you have exposed yourself?'
Nancy was standing up, and the line of her mouth was thinner than ever. She took a step and said, 'My father… I'll see if he wants-'
'Nonsense,' Wolfe snapped. 'Please sit down. Why do you think I had your father leave? Shall I send for him? He intends to leam who murdered his son, and for the moment all other considerations surrender to that, even his daughter's dignity and peace of mind. You won't get peace of mind by concealing things, anyway. You must give satisfactory and complete answers to those questions, and the easiest way is here, to me, at once.'
'You can't do this.' She fluttered a hand. Her chin trembled, and she steadied it. 'Really you can't. You can't do this.' She was beauty in distress if I ever saw it, and if the guy harassing her had been anybody else I would have smacked him cold and flung her behind my saddle.
Wolfe told her impatiently, 'You see how it is. Sit down. Confound it, do you want to turn it into a brawl, with your father here too and both of us shouting at you? You'll have to tell these things, for we need to know them, whether they prove useful or not. You can't bury them. For example, your dislike for Mr. Bronson. I can pick up that telephone and call a man in New York named Saul Panzer, an able and in- dustrious man, and tell him I want to know all he can dis- cover about Bronson and you and your brother. You see how silly it would be to force us to spend that time and money. What about Mr. Bronson? Who is he?'
'If I told you about Bronson-' She stopped to control her voice. 'I can't. I promised Clyde I wouldn't.'
