“Ever since Ashbury said the things he did to her. By God, I’d like to get my hands on him. Of all the dirty cads, of all the—”
“You didn’t know it until you got home?”
“No.”
“That hasn’t been very long, has it?”
“No. About an hour or so. Why? What made you ask?”
“Because, as I said, I just missed meeting you earlier this evening.”
He raised his eyebrows in a somewhat exaggerated gesture of surprise. “I’m afraid I don’t get you.”
“Up at Esther Clarde’s apartment. It must have given you quite a start when you heard knuckles hammering on the door, and someone said it was the police.”
For a second or two he remained rigidly motionless. There wasn’t so much as the trace of an expression on his face. Even his eyes didn’t move. Then he looked up at me and said, “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
I dropped into a chair, and put my feet up on another chair.