Mason matched her grin, “And they don’t make half enough,” he told her.
Cullens ignored the byplay. “Okay, Lone, what do we do?”
She studied the tip of her cigarette meditatively. “Suppose he’s hocked them,” she said musingly. “How much do you s’pose he’d have been able to raise on them, Aussie?”
“Not over three or four thousand at the most,” Cullens said. “Being drunk, wanting the money for gambling, and with the strong possibility of a kick-back, it’s a cinch no gambler would take a chance for more than a fifth of their clear market value.”
She turned to Perry Mason. “How much would a lawsuit cost?” she asked.
Mason grinned. “Is three or four thousand, at the most, the answer you’re waiting for?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, and once more the emerald flashed as her hand made a gesture of dismissal. “That settles it, Aussie. Find Trent. If he has the stones, get them back. If he hasn’t, find out where he’s hocked them, and pay off the loan. That’s cheaper than a lawsuit — and faster.”
She turned to Virginia Trent and said, “I understand exactly how you feel. Poor child! I suppose you were afraid of me. You needn’t have been. After all, it’s not your fault.”
Virginia Trent said, “I’m not a child. I’m an adult. What’s more, I still feel there’s something back of my aunt’s conduct, that there’s some emotional upset which...”
Cullens got to his feet. “Well, come on, everybody,” he interrupted, “we have work to do, and there’s no use taking up more of Mr. Mason’s time.”