“Why should he? I don’t know any X. I wrote that story myself. ‘There Is Only Love.’ ”

“If so you are X, and I have reason to believe that you are not.” Wolfe shook his head. “No. Did you write that book that was published under your name? The Moth That Ate Peanuts?”

“Certainly I wrote it!”

“Then you didn’t write that story. That too is demonstrable. And that is the background.” Wolfe straightened up and flattened a palm on the desk. “Now. Here is the point. I have also studied the text of ‘Opportunity Knocks,’ the story on which you have based your claim against Amy Wynn. Did you write that?”

“Certainly I did!”

“I believe you. It was written by the person who wrote The Moth That Ate Peanuts. But in that case you did not write ‘There Is Only Love.’ I will undertake to establish that fact beyond a reasonable doubt to the satisfaction of both a learned judge and a motley jury; and if it can be demonstrated that your claim against Ellen Sturdevant was a fraud, that it was based on a story you did not write, how much credence will be given to your good faith in your claim against Amy Wynn? I am prepared to advise Miss Wynn to reject your claim out of hand.”

“Go ahead.” Evidently she had meant it when she said she didn’t scare easy.

“You are not impressed?” Wolfe was still affable.

“I certainly am not. You’re lying and you’re bluffing-if I get what you’re driving at. You think you can prove I didn’t write that story. ‘There Is Only Love,’ by showing that its style is different from my book, The Moth That Ate Peanuts. Is that it?”

“Yes. If you include all the elements of style-vocabularly, syntax, paragraphing. Yes.”

“I’d like to see you try.” She was scornful. “Any writer that’s any good can imitate a style. They do it all the time. Look at all the parodies.”

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