“But surely the receptionist could have explained it all, my dear,” said Agnes.
“There was no receptionist, I tell you!” said Ginger Horton irately. “There was no one but him—and a lot of fantastic instruments. And the chair was odd too! I’m lucky to have gotten out of there alive!”
“Did she swallow the egg?” asked Esther.
“Esther, for Heaven’s sake!”
“What was that?” asked Grand, who seemed not to have heard.
“Esther wanted to know if Ginger had swallowed the egg,” Agnes said.
“Certainly not!” said Ginger. “I spit it right out. Not at first, of course; I was in a state of complete shock. ‘I don’t want you to swallow this!’ he said when he dropped it in, the maniac, so I just sat there in a state of pure shock while he raced around and around the room, screaming like a perfect madman!”
“Maybe it wasn’t an egg,” suggested Esther.
“What on earth do you mean?” demanded Ginger, quite beside herself. “It certainly was an egg—a raw egg! I tasted it and saw it, and some of the yellow got on my frock!”
“And then you filed a complaint with the authorities?” asked Agnes.