“What case you talkin’ about?”
“There’s only one that interests me,” she replied, with a touch of dignity.
“What do you want, anyhow?”
Kate’s labored breathing was audible.
“Is it so that you are not going to do any more about the murder of my uncle?”
“Your uncle!” he snorted, necked the ashes from the end of his cigar, rolled it back into place with his tongue and reiterated: “Your uncle!” Then: “What’s it to you? You got off, didn’t you?”
She came into the room a step or two.
“It’s everything to me or I wouldn’t be here. Can’t you understand what it means to me—going through life with people thinking—”
“You got the money, didn’t you?” he interrupted.
“What you throwing a bluff like this for, anyhow? I guess what people think ain’t worryin’ you.”