Mrs. Tump said nervously, “Mr. Mason, I didn’t want you to think that I was trying to double-cross you. I… Well, I wanted to see Mr. Tidings and let him know that I wasn’t bluffing; that I said I’d go to you and that I’d gone to you.”
Mason said, “Forget it. Even if you had been trying to effect a last minute settlement with him, it would have been all right with me.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mason. You’re so kind. You make me feel like a… like a…”
“Like a heel,” Byrl Gailord interrupted, laughing. “But really, Mr. Mason, Mrs. Tump was working for my best interests, and she wants to save every dime of my money she can. Come on now, Abigail. ’Fess up.”
Mrs. Tump laughed. “I don’t need to ’fess up, Byrl. I’ve been caught with the goods… Good-by, Mr. Mason.”
Mason and Della Street watched them out of the office.
“The chiseler,” Della Street said.
Mason nodded. “They’ll all do that,” he said, “if they’re smart enough… Get my broker on the line, Della. Tell him to find out everything about Western Prospecting, what the stock can be sold for, and who unloaded a block of fifty thousand dollars’ worth on Tuesday morning.”
“Do you want to talk with Loftus & Cale?” he asked.
“Not yet,” Mason said. “I want to be loaded for bear when I talk with them.”