Some Buried Caesar

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."