“A blackmailer!” she said scornfully.
“Has he been blackmailing you?” I asked.
She ignored the question.
“Has he?” Sellers asked, bluntly.
“I don’t see why I should answer a lot of questions about my personal affairs in front of a man who is the lowest type of murderer, a man who tried to insinuate himself into this household under the guise of being a writer who was going to help me get satisfaction from the insurance company. Good Heavens, it’s just the biggest wonder that I’m not lying there on the floor with a stocking around my neck!”
“Was Durham trying to blackmail you?” I interrupted. She ignored me.
“Was he?” Sellers asked.
“I don’t know what gave you that idea.”
I said, “If he wasn’t blackmailing you, what did he want? Come on, let’s not stall around. Give a straightforward answer. What was he doing here?”
She said, “We had some business that we were talking over.”