"Those yours?"
"Yes."
"Did you bring them with you last night?"
"No."
"When did you get them?"
"Dick brought them to me early this morning."
"What's in them?"
"Things."
"You mean you're skipping out?"
"My nerves are all upset. I'm going away for a few days until this thing straightens out."
Mason tightened his lips and said, "You poor little fool, were you trying to take a runout powder?"
She said, "Well, what if I was?"
"That," he told her, "is exactly what they're trying to get you to do. Flight is an indication of guilt. It's something that can be proved in a case the same as any other fact."
"They'd never catch me—not where I'm going."
"They'd catch you," he said, "before you went there, with a ticket in your pocket."
"Don't fool yourself," she said. "I'd be too smart for that—only I'm not running away. I just don't want…"
"Listen," he told her. "There's a police detective in the hall, watching the door of your room. There's another one in the lobby and one at the elevators. The police have put in a special operator at the switchboard. You've been shadowed, your son has been shadowed, and all of your telephone conversations have been overheard. Now…"
She clutched her hand to her throat.
"Good heavens!" she exclaimed. "Do you suppose…?"
"Give me the lowdown," he interrupted. "What happened after I left?"
"Nothing very much. They asked me a few questions. I had hysterics."
"What did you tell them?"
"I told them the truth at first—that I had wanted to see my husband about a matter of business, that I went into the outer office and found Hazel Fenwick lying on the floor; that I worked with her and brought her to consciousness, and then she told a story of a man with an empty eye socket, running from the room where my husband had his office."
"Did they ask you why you didn't call your husband?"
"I told them that I was so engrossed thinking of Hazel Fenwick, and trying to bring her to consciousness, that I'd forgotten about my husband."
Mason made a grimace of disgust.
"What's wrong with that?"
"Everything," he said. "What happened after that?"
"Then," she said, "they started getting a little nasty and I became hysterical and lied to them."
"What did you lie to them about?"
"Everything. I told them I knew my husband had gone out, and then I told them I knew he hadn't gone out. They asked me if I knew anyone who had an artificial eye, and I told them my husband had an artificial eye. I laughed and screamed, and they called a doctor and I wouldn't let him touch me. I insisted that Dick call my own physician and then when he came out, he sized up the situation and gave me a hypo and sent me to my room."
"Then what?"
"Dick scouted around until he found a back way unguarded and then he came and got me. I was pretty groggy from the hypo, but I managed to walk, keeping an arm on his shoulder. He took me here and put me to bed. I woke up early this morning and telephoned him, using an assumed name so the police wouldn't know who it was—but, if they were listening over the switchboard—my heavens!"
"Did you make any admissions?" Mason asked.
"No. I didn't have anything to admit, except about the hysterics."
"What about the hysterics?"
"He asked me if I'd told the police anything, and I told him no, that my hysterics completely fooled them."
"Anything else?"
"I talked with him two or three times today."
"Make any admissions?"
"Well, I talked pretty freely with him, but I didn't make any damaging admissions."
"Did he?" Mason asked.
"He told me he was glad my husband was dead. Dick had hated him bitterly for some time."
"Now, listen," Mason told her. "You can't stall the police the next time they start questioning you. So you've got to get your story in order. How about the gun?"
"I'll tell them the truth, that I gave it to Dick to protect me with."
"Was that the gun that was used in the killing?"
"I don't know."
"How about Brunold?"
"I don't know any Brunold."
"You should," Mason said. "He's the father of your child."
She clutched at the edge of the table.
"What!" she exclaimed.
Mason nodded and said, "I found out that much through my own detectives. The police can find it out just as easily as I did, providing Brunold hasn't told them already. Brunold has been taken into custody."
"Even Dick doesn't know," she said.
"Does he suspect?"
"I don't think so."
"Brunold was out at the house last night?"
"No."
"Tell me the truth."
"Yes."
"What time did he leave?"
"Do I have to tell the police this?"
"I can't tell yet."
"He left just before I discovered Hazel Fenwick unconscious."
"What were you doing in your husband's outer office?"
"I went down there to see if Hazel had fixed things up with Hartley. She had been gone a long time and I was worried."
"Brunold was with you just before you went down?"
"Yes."
"Had he been with you all the time?"
"No, not all the time. I'd gone to my bedroom and left him in my sitting room. I think he stepped into the corridor for something. He wasn't there when I came back, but he came in after a few moments."
"You knew Hazel Fenwick was going down to see your husband?"
"Oh, yes. I wanted her to."
"Was it Brunold's eye your husband was holding in his hand?"
"I think it was."
"How long have you known Hazel Fenwick?"
"Not very long."
"Is there something phoney about this Fenwick woman?" Mason asked.
"I can't tell you that."
"You mean you won't. Is there something phoney about this marriage to Dick?"
"I don't know. She came to the house for the first time the night of the murder. Dick's Hartley's heir. Hartley wanted to control Dick's marriage. I knew there'd be a scene when he found out. I wanted her to tell him. I thought she'd make a good impression."
"How many at the house knew she was married to Dick?"
"None of them. Overton, the chauffeur, brought her to the house from the station. He thought she was a friend of mine. Edith Brite, the housekeeper, might have suspected, but I don't think so. Those were the only ones at the house who had seen her."
"Did you see Harry McLane last night?"
"No."
"Look here," Mason said; "every once in a while you tell me a lie. It's poor policy to lie to your lawyer. It might put you in a tough spot. Now, did you see Harry McLane last night?"
"No," she said defiantly.
"Do you know if he was out at the house?"
"He might have seen Hartley but I don't think so."
"Someone was in Hartley's office when this Fenwick woman knocked on the door. Who was that?"
"That," she said, "is something I can't understand. I wanted Hazel to have a clear field, so I watched the entrance door and waited until the last client had gone. Then I told Hazel the coast was clear and went as far as the entrance room with her. If someone was in the office with Hartley it must have been someone who came in through the back door."
"Well," Mason said, "did Harry McLane know about the back door?"
"Oh, yes."
"How about Pete Brunold?"
She hesitated a moment and then said slowly, "Pete knew about it, too. That is, sometimes he'd come in my side of the house through the back door. The two back doors are right together… Now you can't say I'm not telling you the truth."
Mason stared at her grimly and said, "I'm not saying anything, but I'm doing a lot of thinking. Was Pete Brunold with you all the time he was out at the house the night of the murder?"