The Second Confesion

“I have spoken,” Wolfe told her, “of what the proof, if you insist on it, will cost me and your father and family. I suppose I should mention what it will cost another person Mr Rony. It will get him a long term in jail. Perhaps that would enter into your decision. If you have any suspicion that it would be necessary to contrive a frame-up, reject it. He is pure scoundrel. I wouldn't go to the extreme of calling him a cheap filthy little worm, but he is in fact a shabby creature. Your sister thinks I'm putting it brutally, but how else can I put it?

Should I hint that he may be not quite worthy of you? I don't know that, for I don't know you. But I do know that I have told you the truth about him, and I'll prove it if you say I must.” Gwenn left her chair. Her eyes left Wolfe for the first time since her unsure glance at me. She looked around at her family.

“I'll let you know before bedtime,” she said firmly, and walked out of the room. Chapter Eight

More than four hours later, at nine o'clock in the evening, Wolfe yawned so wide I thought something was going to give.

We were up in the room where I had slept Saturday night, if it can be called sleep when a dose of dope has knocked you out. Immediately after Gwenn had ended the session in the library by beating it, Wolfe had asked where he could go to take a nap, and Mrs Sperling had suggested that room. When I steered him there he went straight to one of the three-quarter beds and tested it, pulled the coverlet off, removed his coat and vest and shoes, lay down, and in three minutes was breathing clear to China. I undressed the other bed to get a blanket to put over him, quit trying to fight temptation, and followed his example.

When we were called to dinner at seven o'clock I was conscripted for courier duty, to tell Mrs Sperling that under the circumstances Mr Wolfe and I would prefer either to have a sandwich upstairs or go without, and it was a pleasure to see how relieved she was. But even in the middle of that crisis she didn't let her household suffer shame, and instead of a sandwich we got jellied consomme, olives and cucumber rings, hot roast beef, three vegetables, lettuce and tomato salad, cold pudding with nuts in it, and plenty of coffee. It was nothing to put in your scrapbook, but was more than adequate, and except for the jellied consomme, which he hates, and the salad dressing, which he made a face at, Wolfe handled his share without comment.