Paler than Priam. For Delia Priam’s eyes had flashed to their widest at sight of the wallet, all the color running out of her face. Then the lids had come down as if to shut out a ghost.
Shock. But the shock of what? Fear? Yes, there was fear, but fear followed the shock; it did not precede.
Suddenly Ellery knew what it was.
Recognition.
He mulled over this, baffled. It was a new wallet. She couldn’t possibly have seen it before. Unless... For that matter, neither could Priam. Did it mean the same thing to both of them? Vaguely, he doubted this. Their reactions had thrown of? different qualities. Lightning had struck both of them, but it was as if Priam were a meteorologist who understood the nature of the disaster, his wife an ignorant bystander who knew only that she had been stunned. I’m reading too much into this, Ellery thought. You can’t judge the truth of anything from a look... It’s useless to attempt to talk to her now... In an indefinable way he was glad. It was remarkable how easily passion was killed by a dirty fact. He felt nothing when he looked at her now, not even revulsion. The sickness in the pit of his stomach was for himself and his gullibility.
“Delia, where you going?”
She was walking out.
“Mother.”
So Crowe had seen it, too. He ran after her, caught her at the door.
“What’s the matter?”