Chapter 19
Mason drove his car through the arched gateway which bore the sign: THE GABLES HOTEL. The rural hotel loomed as a huge dark pile against the sky, with, here and there, the lighted oblong of a window marking human tenancy. Mason parked his car, gave his bag and suitcase to a sleepy-eyed bellboy who emerged from the lighted interior of the lobby, crossed to the desk and said to the clerk, “My name’s Mason. I believe you have a room reserved for me, Mr. P. Mason?”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Mason. Your room’s all ready. Do you wish to go up now?”
“Yes.”
Mason followed the bellboy up a wide flight of stairs, down a long corridor, and into a typical country hotel bedroom. He tipped the bellboy, removed his coat and vest, washed his hands and face, locked the corridor door, put on his coat and vest again, and, entering the bathroom, stood with his ear against the door which led to the connecting room. He could hear the sound of low, steady sobbing. Mason tapped on the door. After a moment, Della Street’s voice said, “Who is it?”
“Mason,” he told her. She opened the door.
Virginia Trent, her eyes red and swollen from crying, her hair looking like unbraided rope, looked up at him from the bed then grabbed at a kimono, which partially covered her. “Where did you come from?” she asked.
Mason crossed the room to sit down on the edge of the bed. “I came from court,” he said, “just as soon as I could get away.”
Virginia Trent pushed the damp, stringy hair back from her forehead, sat up on the bed, wadded a tear-soaked pillow into a ball and pushed it behind her. “I’m going back,” she said. Mason shook his head. “Yes, I am. I’m going back and face it. I tried to all day, and Della Street wouldn’t let me. Is that why you had her take me out here?” Mason nodded. “Well, I’m going back. I’m going to tell them...”
“Tell them what?” Mason asked.