Free Curtains For Three by Rex Stout

set.”
    “You mean sign this thing?” She was contemptuous. “I’m not that dumb.”
    I caught the waiter’s eye and signaled for refills, and then, to keep her company, emptied my glass.
    I met her gaze, matching her frown. “Lookit, Blue Eyes,” I told her reasonably.
    “I’m not sticking needles under your nails. I’m not saying we can prove you entered the studio - whether with your key or because the door wasn’t locked doesn’t matter - and moved the gun. We know you did, since no one else could have and you were there at the right time, but I admit we can’t prove it.
    However, I’m offering you a wonderful bargain.”
    I pointed the pen at her. “Just listen. All we want this statement for is to keep it in reserve, in case the person who put the gun back on the floor is fool enough to blab it, which is very unlikely. He would only be - “
    “You say he?” she demanded.
    “Make it he or she. As Mr. Wolfe says, the language could use another pronoun.
    He would only be making trouble for himself. If he doesn’t spill it, and he won’t, your statement won’t be used at all, but we’ve got to have it in the safe in case he does. Another thing, if we have this statement we won’t feel obliged to pass it along to the cops about your having had a key to the studio door. We wouldn’t be interested in keys. Still another, you’ll be saving your father a big chunk of dough. If you sign this statement we can clear up the matter of Mion’s death, and if we do that I guarantee Mrs. Mion will be in no frame of mind to push any claim against your father. She will be too busy with a certain matter.”
    I proffered the pen. “Go ahead and sign it.” She shook her head, but not with much energy because her brain was working again. Fully appreciating the fact that her thinking was not on the tournament level, I was patient. Then the refills came and there was a recess, since she couldn’t be expected to think and drink all at once. But finally she fought her way through to the point I had aimed at.
    “So you know,” she declared with satisfaction.
    “We know enough,” I said darkly.
    “You know she killed him. You know she put the gun back on the floor. I knew that too, I knew she must have. And now you can prove it'If I sign this you can prove it?”
    Of course I could have covered it with doubletalk, but I thought, What the hell.
    “We certainly can,” I assured her. “With this statement we’re ready to go. It’s the missing link. Here’s the pen.”
    She lifted her glass, drained it, put it down, and damned if she didn’t shake her head again, this time with energy. “No,” she said flatly, “I won’t.” She extended a hand with the document in it. “I admit it’s all true, and when you get her on trial if she says she put the gun back on the floor I’ll come and swear to it that I put it on the bust, but I won’t sign anything because once I signed something about an accident and my father made me promise that I would never sign anything again without showing it to him first. I could take it and show it to him and then sign it, and you could come for it tonight or tomorrow.”
    She frowned. “Except that he knows I had a key, but I could explain that.”
    But she no longer had the document. I had reached and taken it. You are welcome to think I should have changed holds on her and gone on fighting, but you weren’t there seeing and hearing her, and I was. I gave up, I got out my pocket notebook, tore out a page, and began writing on it.
    “I could use another drink,” she stated.
    “In a minute,” I mumbled, and went on writing, as follows:
    To Nero Wolfe:
    I hereby declare that Archie Goodwin has tried his best to persuade me to sign the statement you wrote, and explained its purpose to me, and I have told him why I must refuse to sign it.
    “There,” I said, handing it to her. “That won’t be signing something; it’s just stating that you refuse to sign something. The