Which of course halted progress for a good twenty minutes. It wasn't only his own meals that Wolfe insisted on safeguarding from extraneous matters. When Fritz brought the tray Cynthia wasn't reluctant about the Scotch, but she needed urging on the sandwiches and got it from both of us. After a taste of the homemade pate no further urging was required. To make her feel that she could take her time Wolfe conversed with me about the plant germination records. Not about Cramer. His feelings about Cramer were much too warm and too recent. When she was through I put the tray on the table by the big globe, leaving her a glass full of her mixture, and then resumed my seat at my desk.

Wolfe was regarding her warily. "Do you feel better?"

"Much better, yes. I guess I was pretty empty."

"Good." Wolfe leaned back and sighed. "Now. You came to me as soon as the police let you go. Does that mean that you want my help in this new circumstance?"

"It certainly does. I want -"

"Excuse me. We'll go faster if I lead, and Mr. Cramer is quite capable of sending men here with warrants. Let's compress it. There are two points on which I must be satisfied before we can proceed. First, whether you killed that man. An attorney may properly work for a murderer, but I'm not an attorney, and anyway I don't like money from murderers. Did you kill him?"

"No. I want to -"

"Just the no will do if it's the truth. Is it?"

"Yes. It's no."

"I'm inclined to accept it, for reasons mostly not communicable. Some are. For instance, if you had been unable to eat that pate -" Wolfe cut himself off and sent his eyes at me. "Archie. Did Miss Nieder kill that man?"

I looked at her, my lips puckered, and her gaze met mine. I must admit that she looked pretty ragged, not at all the same person as the one who had modeled, just twenty-four hours before, a dancing dress of Swiss eyelet organdy with ruffled shoulders. She had sure been through something, but not necessarily a murder.