"Go on," Mason said, "went where?"
She kept her jeweled fingers busy with the edge of the cigarette tray and said, "Went back."
"Back where?"
"Back on the speed boat, of course."
Mason studied her face. "That wasn't what you were going to say."
"Yes, it was."
Mason said, "Don't be a fool. I know you started to say something else."
"Why?"
"Because the way you bit off that sentence showed that you'd almost betrayed yourself into saying something you didn't want to say. Then when I asked you where she went and you said that she went back to the shore, there was relief in your voice to think you hadn't gone far enough with your other sentence to keep from patching it up. Now I want to know where Sylvia went when she came out of the casino."
Matilda Benson lit another cigarette and puffed on it.
"Tell me where she went," Mason demanded insistently.
"She went to the rail."
"And what did she do at the rail?"
Matilda Benson said slowly, "She fumbled with her handbag, and a second or so later I heard something splash in the water."
"Something heavy?"
"It made a splash."
"Was it a gun?"
"I'm sure I couldn't tell you what it was."
"Did anyone else see her?"
Matilda Benson delayed the shake of her head for almost a second.
Mason said, "In other words, someone did see her."
"The young couple who were doing the necking may have seen her. I don't know. It depends upon how engrossed they were in what they were doing. You see, when Sylvia came out of the lighted interior her eyes were unaccustomed to the darkness and she stood quite close to the young couple, apparently without knowing it. Just before the sound of the splash, the neckers acted as though they'd seen something, and I heard them whisper excitedly. Then Sylvia ran down to the speed boat."
"Sylvia was standing close to you?"
"Quite close, yes."
"Now wait a minute," Mason went on. "There was a speed boat waiting at the landing?"
"Yes."
"Couldn't the people in that launch have seen her toss something overboard?"
"I don't know. I don't think so."
"Now, Sylvia came out of the casino and went right to the rail?"
"That's right… This man told her Frank was aboard and to beat it. Then she went right to the rail."
"And from the rail she went right down to the speed boat?"
"Yes."
"Now, who was this man?"
"I don't know. It was someone who'd followed Sylvia up from the casino. He stuck his head out of the door told her Frank was aboard and for her to beat it. Then he ducked back into the door and Sylvia crossed to the rail."
"You didn't see this man?"
"Only as a dim figure popping his head out of the door from the casino."
"Light was streaming through that door?"
"No, it opens from stairs and a curtained corridor. There was very little light."
"How was Sylvia dressed?"
"She had on a dark suit with a three-quarter length jacket."
"And a hat?"
"Yes."
"That was the same way she was dressed when you first saw her in the casino?"
"Yes."
"Now look here," Mason said, "she must have worn a coat over here."
"She has a very nice fur coat that…"
"I know she has," Mason said. "Now here's what I'm getting at: she must have checked that coat. Pretty soon the officers are going to come aboard. They'll get the names and addresses of everyone on the ship. After a while they'll let people go home. Then the check girl will report that someone has left a very valuable fur coat. The police will put two and two together. If Sylvia claims that fur coat, she'll be walking into a trap. If she doesn't claim it, it will be equivalent to a declaration of guilt. The police will trace that coat, and Sylvia will be in a sweet mess. Now do you suppose…"
She interrupted him and said, "Yes, I could go down to the girl at the checking counter, tell her I'd lost my coat check, give her a dollar tip and…"
"Could you describe the fur coat well enough to get it?" Mason asked.
"Yes. I bought the coat for Sylvia. There's a tag on the inside of the pocket with Sylvia's name printed on it and the number of an insurance policy. I could tell the girl I was Sylvia, and get the coat."
Mason surveyed the full-fleshed arms in rather critical appraisal. She nodded and said, "Yes, I can wear the coat. I wouldn't try to button it."
"That," Mason told her, "will leave your coat unaccounted for. You checked it?"
"Well, yes, but I can go down and present my check, get my coat, park it somewhere, then go back and make the stall about Sylvia's coat and go ashore with both coats. I'll go…"
"No," Mason interrupted, "you can't do that. The girl in the check room might remember you, and you haven't enough time to wait more than a minute or two in between trips. It's too dangerous."
"There's no other way out," she said.
"Give me your check," Mason told her, "and wait here."
She opened her handbag, handed the lawyer a printed oblong pasteboard, and remarked, "I like the way you're handling things. I'm going to show my gratitude in a substantial way."
"Yes," the lawyer told her, "you can send me pies and cakes while I'm in jail."
She stared at him with speculative eyes and said, "Apparently you don't mean that as a wise-crack."
"I don't," he told her. "When they check up on me, I'm going to be in a spot. Sylvia left me holding the sack. You wait here."
He walked down the passageway to the checking room, pushed the numbered pasteboard across the counter to the girl on duty and dropped a fifty-cent piece into her outstretched hand. "My wife's seasick," he explained. "Get me that coat in a rush."
"Seasick! Why there's hardly any motion…"
Mason made a grimace and said, "She thinks she's seasick. Suppose you go argue with her?"
The girl's laughter rang out merrily as she handed Mason the coat. Her brown eyes swept the lawyer's broad shoulders and clean-cut features in swift appraisal. "We hope you won't stop coming out," she said, "just because your wife gets seasick."
"I won't," Mason assured her, and took the coat to Matilda Benson. "Here you are," he said. "I'll leave it to you to get the other coat. You may have to…" He broke off as from the outer darkness came the sound of a speed boat roaring through the fog. "That," he said, "sounds like the officers. We'll have to hurry."
"Shall I give them my right name?"
"Not unless you have to," he told her, "but be careful. They'll probably want to see some identification, driver's license or something of that sort. You can tell what you're up against by getting a place near the last of the line-up. There are probably quite a few men and women on board who'd just as soon not give their right names. It'll be a tedious process weeding them out. Along toward the last, the officers may get tired and let down the bars a bit. Be careful you don't get caught in a lie."
She tilted her head back, squared her jaw and said with calm confidence, "I've told some whoppers in my time and made them stick. You'd better go out that door to the left, because I'm going out through the door to the right."
Mason said, "Happy landing," and walked out through the door to the left, into the casino. He was half way to the roulette tables when a man in a rubber raincoat which still glistened with fog and spray, called out, "Attention, everybody! A murder's been committed aboard this ship. No one's going to be allowed to leave. You will all kindly remain inside and not try to leave this room. If you'll co-operate with us, it won't be long. If you don't co-operate, you'll be here all night.