“The other steak, Alfred.” Priam extended his plate. Wallace refilled it in silence. “What’s this, now?”
“Warning number six, Mr. Priam,” said Ellery.
Priam attacked his second steak.
“I see it’s no use,” he said in almost a friendly tone, “trying to get you two to keep your noses out of my business.”
“I took it,” said Crowe Macgowan abruptly. “It was left on the mailbox and I lifted it.”
“Oh, you did.” Priam inspected his stepson.
“I live here, too, you know. I’m getting pretty fed up with this and I want to see it cleaned out.”
Priam hurled his plate at Crowe Macgowan’s head. It hit the giant a glancing blow above the ear. He staggered, crashed back into the door. His face went yellow.
“Crowe!”
He brushed his mother aside. “Roger, if you ever do that again,” he said in a low voice, “I’ll kill you.”