“On the floor. I want to talk to you.”
“Didn’t you ever hear of the language of the eyes and so forth?”
“Tonight it has to come out here.” Laurel leaned back on her arms, smiling at him. He was beginning to glower. But then he folded up at her feet and put his head on her knees. Laurel moved him, drew her coat over her legs, and replaced his head.
“All right, then, let it out!”
“Mac,” said Laurel, “why did you hire Ellery Queen?”
He sat still for a moment. Then he reached over to a shelf, got a cigaret, lit it, and leaned back.
“That’s a hell of a question to ask a red-blooded man in a tree house at twelve o’clock at night.”
“Just the same, answer it.”
“What difference does it make? You hired him, Delia hired him, everybody was doing it, so I did it too. Let’s talk about something else. If we’ve got to talk.”
“Sorry. That’s my subject for tonight.”