“Who is this man?”
“Nobody. Nothing, Delia. It don’t concern you.” Priam glared at Ellery. “You. Get out!”
She had come downstairs just to establish the fact that she didn’t know him. As a point in character, it should have interested him. 1 % stead, it annoyed him. Why, he could not quite make out. What was he to Hecuba? Although she was making clear enough what Hecuba was to him. He felt chagrined and challenged, and at the same time he wondered if she affected other men the same way... Wallace was enjoying himself discreetly, like a playgoer who has caught a point which escaped the rest of the audience and is too polite to laugh aloud... Her attitude toward her husband was calm, without fear or any other visible emotion.
“What are you waiting for? You ain’t wanted, Mister. Get out!”
“I’ve been trying to make up my mind, Mr. Priam,” said Ellery, “whether you’re a bag of wind or a damned fool.” Priam’s bearded lips did a little dance. His rage, apparently always in shallow water, was surfacing again. Ellery braced himself for the splash.
Priam was afraid. Wallace ― silent, amused, attentive Wallace ― Wallace saw it. And Delia Priam saw it; she was smiling.
“Alfred, if this fella shows up again, break his ― back!”
Ellery looked down at his arm. Wallace’s hand was on it.
“I’m afraid, Mr. Queen,” murmured Wallace, “that I’m man enough to do it, too.”
The man’s grip was paralyzing. Priam was grinning, a yellow hairy grin that jarred him. And the woman ― that animate piece of jungle ― watching. To his amazement, Ellery felt himself going blind-mad. When he came to, Alfred Wallace was sitting on the floor chafing his wrist and staring up at Ellery. He did not seem angry; just surprised.