Some Buried Caesar

Jimmy demanded, "What's the use of deadpanning her? Either you and Wolfe are going to act as decent as he talked-"

"Deadpan?" I grinned. "Not on your life. I wouldn't know about decency, but Wolfe and I always do what he says. But you children are only going to make it harder by being indis- creet all over the fair grounds. Osgood is a difficult enough client already. For God's sake postpone this reunion for a day or two. Everybody in the county knows you, and here you stand in plain view. If you'll do what I say I'll guarantee that Wolfe and I will be as decent as doves… and Osgood will never see that paper."

Jimmy was frowning. "Well?"

"Separate. Disunite. Immediately. You go out at the other end and I'll take her this way."

"He's right. Jimmy. It was awfully foolish, but you in- sisted-"

"Come on, beat it. Ten people have stopped to look in here at us in the last three minutes."

"But I've got to know-"

"Damn it, do what I say!"

"Please, Jimmy."

He took her hand and looked her in the eye and said her name twice as if he was leaving her bound to a railroad track, and tore himself away. I told her to come on and left the stall and turned right with her, toward the door by which I had entered. Outside I took her elbow and talked as we walked:

"I've got work to do and I'm leaving you. You've acted like a female nincompoop. It's true that emotions are emotions, but brains are also brains. To go running to Jimmy Pratt for help when you already had Nero Wolfe's! You get away from here. I suppose you have a date to meet your father some- where. If so, go there and wait for him and practice thinking."

"But I haven't… you talk as if-"

"I don't talk as if anything. Don't worry about how I talk. Here's where I turn off. See you in kindergarten."

I left her in the middle of a crowd, thinking that was as good a place as any, and elbowed my way across the current to where I could make better time without displaying any in- dications of panic. It took less than five minutes to get from there to the Methodist tent. Wolfe was still there, at the table, looking massively forlorn on the folding chair. He had prob- ably never before digested good food under such difficult cir- cumstances.

He frowned up at me. "Well? Mr. Bennett?"