“Don’t be a chump,” I interrupted his bawling. “Why should she kill him?”

“Because she’s a French hussy! Because she⁠—”

The secretary’s frightened face appeared at the door.

“Get out of here!” the old man roared at it, and the face went.

“She jealous?” I asked before he could go on with his shouting. “And if you don’t yell maybe I’ll be able to hear you anyway. My deafness is a lot better since I’ve been eating yeast.”

He put a fist on top of each hump his thighs made in the covers and pushed his square chin at me.

“Old as I am and sick as I am,” he said very deliberately, “I’ve a great mind to get up and kick your behind.”

I paid no attention to that, repeating:

“Was she jealous?”