Drake slipped an arm around the man’s shoulders. “Come on, Freel,” he said. “Take it easy. No one’s going to hurt you.”
Freel struggled with frantic effort against Drake’s restraining arm. Mason, cutting through the strips of adhesive tape, disclosed a little recess which had been hollowed out in the padded cotton stuffing of the mattress. A roll of bills, fastened with two elastics, became visible in the opening. Mason pulled out the roll and unsnapped the elastic.
There were ten one-thousand-dollar bills in the roll.
Mason turned to Freel. “All right, Freel,” he said. “Who gave you the money?”
“Mrs. Tump,” Freel said.
“Tidings,” Mason corrected.
Freel’s eyes shifted. He shook his head nervously. Mason put the bills back into a roll, snapped the elastics around them. “All right, Freel,” he said, “if you’re going to act that way, this money goes out of the room with me. I’ll turn it over to the police.”
Freel moistened his lips. “What do you want?” he asked.
“The truth,” Mason said.
“Then will you give me my money?”