“Fire-escape?” echoed Zoie. There was only one and that led through the bathroom window.
Jimmy explained no further. He was now peeping cautiously out of the window toward the pavement below.
“Where's the mother?” demanded Zoie.
Jimmy jerked his thumb in the direction of the street. Zoie gazed at him with grave apprehension.
“Jimmy!” she exclaimed. “You haven't killed her?”
Jimmy shook his head and continued to peer cautiously out of the window.
“What did you do with her?” called the now exasperated Zoie.
“What did I do with her?” repeated Jimmy, a flash of his old resentment returning. “What did SHE do with ME?”
For the first time, Zoie became fully conscious of Jimmy's ludicrous appearance. Her overstrained nerves gave way and she began to laugh hysterically.
“Say,” shouted Jimmy, towering over the bed and devoutly wishing that she were his wife so that he might strike her with impunity. “Don't you sic any more lunatics onto me.”