“Grabbed what?”
“The thing. The thing I happened to be looking at. She bagged it... collared it... took it away from me, you know, and wouldn't give it back and generally started to rot about a bit, so I rather began to chivvy her to some extent, and I'd just caught her when your brother happened to roll in. I suppose,” said Ginger, putting two and two together, “he had really come with her to the office and had happened to hang back for a minute or two, to talk to somebody or something... well, of course, he was considerably fed to see me apparently doing jiu-jitsu with his wife. Enough to rattle any man, if you come to think of it,” said Ginger, ever fair-minded. “Well, he didn't say anything at the time, but a bit later in the day he called me in and administered the push.”
Sally shook her head.
“It sounds the craziest story to me. What was it that Mrs. Fillmore took from you?”
“Oh, just something.”
Sally rapped the table imperiously.
“Ginger!”
“Well, as a matter of fact,” said her goaded visitor, “It was a photograph.”
“Who of? Or, if you're particular, of whom?”
“Well... you, to be absolutely accurate.”