“I don’t know any Austin Cullens.”
“He’s a big man,” Mason said, “around six feet, somewhere in the forties, curly chestnut hair, a big diamond ring and a diamond scarf pin.”
“Haven’t seen him.”
“He’d have been up here, asking questions about George Trent and talking about redeeming gems Trent had left with you.”
“He hasn’t been here. No man like that has been in here.”
“I think he has,” Mason said calmly.
“I’m lying, is that it?”
Mason grinned mirthlessly. “Let’s say you’re mistaken,” he said.
“Well, I’m not lying and I’m not mistaken. The way you came in is the way out. You’d better start while you can still go under your own power.”
Mason said, “Nice radio you have there on your desk.”