He smiled with his mouth — the rest of his face remained stonily impassive. His eyes were fixed and expressionless, on Hanan. He said: “Your husband has wanted a divorce for some time. His principal reason is a lady — her name doesn’t matter — who wants to marry him — and whom he wants to marry. He hasn’t told you about her because he has felt, perhaps justifiably, that your knowing about her would retard, rather than hasten, an agreement...”
The Filipino boy came in from the kitchen with a cocktail, set it before Hanan. Hanan did not move, or look up. He stared intently at the flowers in the center of the table. The Filipino boy smiled self-consciously at Druse and Mrs. Hanan, disappeared into the kitchen.
Druse relaxed a little, leaned back; the derringer was still focused unwaveringly on Hanan.
“In the hope of uncovering some adequate grounds for bringing suit,” Druse went on, “he has had you followed for a month or more — unsuccessfully, need I add? After you threatened Crandall, you discovered suddenly that you were being followed and, of course, ascribed it to Crandall.”
He paused. It was entirely silent for a moment, except for the faint, faraway buzz of the city and the sharp, measured sound of Hanan’s breathing.
Druse turned his head towards Mrs. Hanan. “After you left Mister Hanan at Roslyn, last night, it suddenly occurred to him that this was his golden opportunity to dispose of you, without any danger to himself. You wouldn’t give him a divorce — and it didn’t look as if he’d be able to force it by discovering some dereliction on your part. And now, you had threatened Crandall — Crandall would be logically suspected if anything happened to you. Mister Hanan sent his men — the men who had been following you — after you when you left the place at Roslyn. They weren’t very lucky.”
Druse was smiling slightly. Mrs. Hanan had put her elbows on the table, her chin in her hands; she regarded Hanan steadily.
“He couldn’t go to the police,” Druse went on — “they would arrest Crandall, or watch him, and that would ruin the whole plan. And the business about the rubies would come out. That was the last thing he wanted” — Druse widened his smile — “because he switched the rubies himself — some time ago.”
Mrs. Hanan turned to look at Druse; very slowly she matched his smile.
“You never discovered that your rubies were fake,” he said, “because that possibility didn’t occur to you. It was only after they’d been given back by Crandall that you became suspicious and found out they weren’t genuine.” He glanced at Hanan and the smile went from his face, leaving it hard and expressionless again. “Mister Hanan is indeed ‘crazy about stones.’”