He was up on his feet. “You look here, Lam. I don’t care if you can lick Joe Louis with one hand tied behind you. You’re not going to—”
Mrs. Ashbury saw that her husband had swivelled his eyes around to glare at Bob. His face had colored and set in hard lines. She decided fainting wasn’t going to do any good. She planted her feet on the floor, swept the doctor and the nurse to one side, and said, “So that’s it. You’ve been hiring a detective to come in here and frame horrible crimes on my son. I want you people to be witnesses to the things that have been said in this room. Henry, you’re going to pay for this, and pay dearly. Robert, darling, you come with Mother. We won’t waste time talking to these people. I’ll see my lawyer in the morning. Things which I hadn’t understood before are perfectly plain to me now. Henry’s trying to frame something on you so as to make me leave him.”
Bob moved to his mother’s side. She put an arm around his shoulder, and sighed.
Bertha Cool got up, slowly and majestically. Her manner was that of a master workman getting ready to tackle a difficult job in a businesslike manner.
Henry Ashbury raised his eyebrows, looked over the tops of his glasses at Bertha Cool, held up his hand, and said, “Don’t.”
There was a second or two of silence. Bertha Cool looked to me for instructions.
Ashbury shook his head at me. “Let it go, Lam,” he said. “I think I’m getting somewhere.”
“You just think you’re getting somewhere. If you were, I’d let you go, but the cards are stacked against you.”
Mrs. Ashbury said, “The doctor will testify that I’m in no condition to answer questions.”
“I most certainly will,” Dr. Parkerdale said. “This whole procedure is outrageous.”