It was Peltham who started to answer the question, but the vigorous nodding of the woman’s head gave Mason his answer.
The lawyer laughed. “Go ahead,” he said. “After all, it’s your show. I’m just sitting in the wings.”
“In a twelve-thousand-dollar seat,” Peltham said with some feeling. “It’s bank night as far as you’re concerned, Mr. Mason, and you’ve won the jackpot.”
Mason indicated the door of the law library with a gesture. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’m going to be back in bed within thirty minutes. You have my proposition. Take it or leave it.”
Peltham crossed over to her chair. “Come, dear,” he said.
She arose with some reluctance. He cupped his hand under her elbow, and they walked across the office, her raincoat rustling as she walked.
The galoshes gave her a somewhat awkward gait. The raincoat, hanging loosely from her shoulders, gave no indication of the contours of her figure, but there was something in her gait which showed that she was young and lithe.
Mason pinched out his cigarette, tilted back in the chair, crossed his ankles on the corner of the desk, and waited.
They were back in less than three minutes. “Your proposition is accepted,” Peltham said. “I only ask that you use the highest good faith.”
“I’ll do the best I can,” Mason said, “and that’s all I can promise.”