conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first five paragraphs for a book with the title 'The Red Box'.. Start with the sentence 'The Red Box
  Frost led us out and back down the corridor, and opened the door at the end on the left'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Red Box
  Frost led us out and back down the corridor, and opened the door at the end on the left. He switched on lights, said he would be back soon, and disappeared. I moved my eyes. It was a small paneled room with a table, a smoking stand, full-length mirrors, and three dainty silk chairs. Wolfe stood and looked at the mess, and his lips tightened.
  I went out and strode down the corridor to McNair's office, entered, heaved his chair to my shoulder, and proceeded back to the booth with it. Frost and the two goddesses were going in as I got there. Frost went for another chair, and I planked my prize down behind the table and observed to Wolfe, "If you get so you like it we'll take it home with us." Frost returned with his contribution, and I told him, "Go and get three bottles of cold light beer and a glass and an opener. We've got to keep him alive."
  He went. I negotiated myself into a chair with the blonde pippin on one side and the sylph on the other. Wolfe was sniffing the air. He suddenly demanded:
  Wolfe nodded, and turned to the sylph. "Why do you work here, Miss Frost? You don't have to. Do you?"
  Helen Frost put level eyes on him, with a little crease in her brow between them. She said quietly, "My cousin told us you wished to ask us about—about Molly Lauck."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me four more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Wolfe sighed. "Then I'm afraid we'll have to go on. I may as well tell you, Miss Frost, that Mr. McNair foresaw—at least, feared—what was waiting for him. While you were here yesterday he was at his lawyer's executing his will. He left his property to his sister Isabel, who lives in Scotland. He named me executor of his estate, and bequeathed me his red leather box and its contents. He called here to ask me to accept the trust and the legacy."
  She shook her head. "I never saw it. I didn't know... but I don't understand... if he wanted you to have it, why didn't he tell you yesterday..."
  Llewellyn was slowly shaking his head. Helen said, "Nothing. I'll try to think, but I'm sure there's nothing I can remember like that."
  Llewellyn was looking at his cousin with inquiring brows. She nodded. "Yes. Glennanne. A little cottage with a few acres of land up near Brewster."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Wolfe sighed. "Then I'm afraid we'll have to go on. I may as well tell you, Miss Frost, that Mr. McNair foresaw—at least, feared—what was waiting for him. While you were here yesterday he was at his lawyer's executing his will. He left his property to his sister Isabel, who lives in Scotland. He named me executor of his estate, and bequeathed me his red leather box and its contents. He called here to ask me to accept the trust and the legacy."
  She shook her head. "I never saw it. I didn't know... but I don't understand... if he wanted you to have it, why didn't he tell you yesterday..."
  Llewellyn was slowly shaking his head. Helen said, "Nothing. I'll try to think, but I'm sure there's nothing I can remember like that."
  Llewellyn was looking at his cousin with inquiring brows. She nodded. "Yes. Glennanne. A little cottage with a few acres of land up near Brewster.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last four paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Llewellyn flushed a little. "She's out at Glennanne. She says she phoned you Saturday evening to ask if she could go out there. She... she doesn't want to see any Frosts. She wouldn't talk to me. I know she's had an awful time of it, but my God, she can't go on forever without any human intercourse... we want you to go out there and talk to her. You can make it in less than two hours."
  Dudley Frost put down the whiskey glass, took a delicate sip of water with a carefulness which indicated that an overdose of ten drops of that fluid might be dangerous, and cleared his throat. "I've already told him," he declared bluntly. "That woman, my sister-in-law, God rest her soul, has been aggravating me about that for nearly twenty years—well, she won't any more. In a way she was no better than a fool. She should have known that if I handled my brother's estate there would sooner or later be nothing left of it. I knew it; that's why I didn't handle it. I turned it over in 1918 to a lawyer named Cabot—gave him a power of attorney—I can't stand him, never could, he's bald-headed and skinny and he plays golf all day Sunday. Do you know him? He's got a wart on the side of his neck. He gave me a quarterly report last week from a certified public accountant, showing that the estate has increased to date twenty-two percent above its original value, so I guess my son will get his million. And I will, too. We'll see how long I can hang onto it—I've got my own ideas about that. But one thing I wanted to speak to you about—in fact, that's why I came here with Lew this morning—it seems to me that's the natural place for your fee to come from, the million I'm getting. If it wasn't for you I wouldn't have it. Of course I can't give you a check now, because it will take time—"
  But Dudley Frost was under way. "Nonsense! That's tommyrot. I've thought all along my son ought to pay you; I didn't know I'd be able to. Helen... that is... damn it, I say Helen! She won't have anything, unless she'll take part of ours—"
  Now, for the first time ever, enjoy a peek into the life of Nero Wolfe's creator, Rex Stout, courtesy of the Stout estate. Pulled from Rex Stout's own archives, here is rarely seen, never-before-published memorabilia. Each title in the Rex Stout Library will offer an exclusive look into the life of the man who gave Nero Wolfe life.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Llewellyn flushed a little. "She's out at Glennanne. She says she phoned you Saturday evening to ask if she could go out there. She... she doesn't want to see any Frosts. She wouldn't talk to me. I know she's had an awful time of it, but my God, she can't go on forever without any human intercourse... we want you to go out there and talk to her. You can make it in less than two hours."
  Dudley Frost put down the whiskey glass, took a delicate sip of water with a carefulness which indicated that an overdose of ten drops of that fluid might be dangerous, and cleared his throat. "I've already told him," he declared bluntly. "That woman, my sister-in-law, God rest her soul, has been aggravating me about that for nearly twenty years—well, she won't any more. In a way she was no better than a fool. She should have known that if I handled my brother's estate there would sooner or later be nothing left of it. I knew it; that's why I didn't handle it. I turned it over in 1918 to a lawyer named Cabot—gave him a power of attorney—I can't stand him, never could, he's bald-headed and skinny and he plays golf all day Sunday. Do you know him? He's got a wart on the side of his neck. He gave me a quarterly report last week from a certified public accountant, showing that the estate has increased to date twenty-two percent above its original value, so I guess my son will get his million. And I will, too. We'll see how long I can hang onto it—I've got my own ideas about that. But one thing I wanted to speak to you about—in fact, that's why I came here with Lew this morning—it seems to me that's the natural place for your fee to come from, the million I'm getting. If it wasn't for you I wouldn't have it. Of course I can't give you a check now, because it will take time—"
  But Dudley Frost was under way. "Nonsense! That's tommyrot. I've thought all along my son ought to pay you; I didn't know I'd be able to. Helen... that is... damn it, I say Helen! She won't have anything, unless she'll take part of ours—"
  Now, for the first time ever, enjoy a peek into the life of Nero Wolfe's creator, Rex Stout, courtesy of the Stout estate. Pulled from Rex Stout's own archives, here is rarely seen, never-before-published memorabilia.