"Nicer with an orchestra pit between, aren't they?"
Marta remembered that these were her public, and he could see her automatically pull herself together. But she was still what Jammy called "het up."
"Amazing business," he said, prompting. And in explanation: "Miss Keats."
"An utterly disgusting exhibition!"
"Disgusting?" said Jammy, at a loss. "Why doesn't she turn cartwheels in the Strand?"
"You think this was just a publicity stunt?"
"What do you call it? A sign from Heaven?"
"But you said yourself, Miss Hallard, that night you were so kind as to put up with me, that she isn't a quack. That she really —»
"Of course she isn't a quack! She has done some amazing horoscopes. But that is a very different matter from this finding of murderers at a penny a time. If Lydia doesn't take care," she said after a pause and with venom, "she will end by being an Aimee McPherson!"
It occurred to Jammy that this was hardly the line he had expected Marta to hand out. He didn't know what he had expected. But somehow it wasn't this. Into the pause that tone: e: doubt made, she said in a new crisp tone.