"I don't know. I am not in my opinion a rock. Neither am I a gull. I couldn't find that girl when I went back to Yugoslavia to look for her. I don't know her."

"But your America will know her! The daughter of Nero Wolfe! In jail for stealing! Only she didn't steal! She is no thief!" She sprang up and put her hands on his desk and leaned across at him: "Pfui!" She sat down again and flashed her eyes at me to let me know she was making no exceptions. I winked at her. Admitting the princess theory and counting me as a peasant, I suppose it was out of character.

Wolfe sighed, long and deep. There was a silence during which I could hear both of them breathing. At length he muttered:

"It's preposterous. Grotesque. No matter how many tricks you learn, life knows a better one. I've put many people in jail, and kept many out. Now this. Archie, your notebook. Miss Lovchen, please give Mr Goodwin the details of this trouble your friend has got into." He leaned back and shut his eyes.

She told it and I put it down. It looked to me, as it unfolded, as if somebody's confidence in someone's daughter might turn out to be misplaced. The two girls taught both dancing and fencing at Nikola Miltan's Studio on East 48th Street. It was an exclusive joint with a pedigreed clientиle and appropriate prices for lessons. They had got their jobs through an introduction from Donald Barrett, son of John P. Barrett of Barrett amp; De Russy, the bankers. Dancing lessons were given in private rooms. The salle d'armes, on the floor above, consisted of a large room and two smaller ones, and there were two locker rooms, one for men and one for women, where clients exchanged street clothes for fencing costumes.

One of the fencing pupils was a man named Nat Driscoll. She pronounced it Nawht. He was middle-aged or more and fat and rich. Yesterday afternoon he had informed Nikola Miltan that upon going to the locker-room after completing his fencing lesson, which had been given by Carla Lovchen, he had seen the other female fencing instructor, namely Neya Tormic, standing by the open door of the locker, in the act of returning the coat of his street suit, on its hanger, to its hook within the locker; and that she had then closed the locker door and departed by the door to the hall. Upon inspection, to which he had proceeded as soon as possible, he had found that his gold cigarette-case and wallet, the contents intact, were in the pockets where they belonged, and it was not until after he got dressed that he remembered about the diamonds, in a pillbox, which should be there too. They were gone. He had carefully explored each and every pocket. They were not there. He demanded their immediate recovery.

Miss Tormic, summoned by Nikola Miltan, denied any knowledge of the diamonds, and further denied that she had opened Mr Driscoll's locker or touched his clothing. The accusation, she said, was outrageous, infamous, and false. She had not been in the locker-room. Had she been in the locker-room for any conceivable purpose, it would not have been to go through men's clothes. Had she gone through a man's clothes, it would not have been Mr Driscoll's clothes; it was beyond the bounds of possibility that she should have the faintest interest in the contents of Mr Driscoll's pockets. She had been justly and somewhat violently indignant.

She had submitted to a search of her person, performed by Jeanne Miltan, Nikola's wife. Everybody at that time in the studio, on both floors, employees and clients alike, had been questioned by Miltan, and a search of the premises conducted. Driscoll stated positively he had seen Neya Tormic's face, from the side, as she stood by the locker, and furthermore that she was wearing her fencing costume. Neya and Carla had both insisted that they be searched again before leaving the studio to go home. Miltan was half frantic at the threat of disgrace to the reputation of his place, and had successfully resisted Driscoll's demand that the police be called. In the morning-this day-he had spent two hours pleading with Neya to tell where the diamonds were, what she had done with them, to whom she had given them, who was her accomplice, and had met with the disdain which his assumption deserved. In a desperate effort to solve the affair without police or publicity, he had arranged for everyone concerned, all who had been on the premises yesterday afternoon, to meet in his office at five o'clock to-day. In Neya Tormic's presence he had told his wife that he would engage the services of Nero Wolfe; and Neya, knowing Nero Wolfe to be her father, had promptly stated that he would be present in her behalf. But Neya had a strong disinclination to reveal her identity to her father, for reasons understandable to him, and therefore Carla, hotfooting it for Wolfe's office, had been instructed not to divulge it.

That was the crop. Miss Lovchen, looking at her wrist and stating that it was five minutes to four, added that Wolfe must come immediately-fast.

Without moving, even his eyelids, Wolfe growled:

"Why didn't Mr Driscoll challenge Miss Tormic on the spot, seeing her with his coat?"

"He was naked. He came from the shower-bath."

"Is he too fat to be seen even at the risk of losing diamonds?"

"He says he is modest. He also says he was too surprised to speak, and she moved rapidly and went away at once. Then his wallet and cigarette-case were there, and he forgot about the diamonds until he was dressed. He is not nearly as fat as you are."

"I wouldn't expect him to be. Do the lockers have keys?"

"Yes, but there is much carelessness. The keys lie around. That part is very confused."

"You say Miss Tormic did not steal the diamonds?"

"I do say that. Never did she."

"Did she take something else from Mr Driscoll's clothing? Something he fails to mention? Letters, papers, even a piece of candy, perhaps?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Did she go to the locker-room?"

"What would she go there for?"

"I don't know. Did she?"

"No."

"Fantastic." Wolfe's eyes threatened to open. "How long have you known she is my daughter?"

"All my life. I have been. her friend, very close. I knew about you-about your-I knew your name."

"About my deplorable intransigence, you would say." Wolfe's tone was suddenly savage. "Ha! You juicy girls with your busts swelling with ardour for the heroics of past centuries! Pah! Do the rats still gather crumbs from under the Donevitch table?"

"We are-" Her chin went up and her eyes showed fire. "They preserve honour! And they will share glory!"

"They will some day share obloquy. Blind and selfish fools. Are you a Donevitch?"

"No." Her bust was swelling, but not apparently with ardour.

"What's your name?"

"Carla Lovchen."

"What's your name at home?"

"I am not at home now." She flung out a hand impatiently. "What is all this? All this about me? Do you realize what I have told you about Neya? About your daughter? Does it help for you to sit there and sneer? I tell you, you must do this at once or there will be the police!"

Wolfe sat up. I was thinking it was about time. The clock on the wall said two minutes past four, and his daily routine, which included an afternoon session in the plant-rooms from four until six, was supposed to be unalterable by fire, flood or murder. I was flabbergasted when, although he glanced at the clock, he merely sat up straight.

But his tone was brisk. "Archie, please conduct Miss Lovchen to the front room and return for instructions."

She started to sputter. "But there's no-"

"Please." He was curt. "If I'm to do this let me do it. Don't waste time. Go with Mr Goodwin."

I was off and she followed. I deposited her in front and shut the door on her, and, returning to the office, shut that one too.

Wolfe said, "I'm late. This won't do. There's no point in getting a line on Mr Driscoll or anyone else until you've been there and reported. I shall have to phone Mr Hitchcock in London before I go upstairs. The book with his private number, please."