“No,” Mattern said bitterly. “Bolus, the damn crook, chiseled me. After I’d brought the parties together and got the deal so far under way that I couldn’t have backed out of it without making everyone suspicious, Bolus told me he’d been under more expense than he’d figured, that he’d have to give some banker a cut, and that I’d have to take ten thousand instead of twenty-five.”
“Why give the banker a cut?” Mason asked.
“Some banker that Tidings had asked for a report on the stock developed an itching palm. Anyhow, that’s what Bolus said.”
“All right,” Mason said. “Go ahead. Tell me how you knew Tidings was dead?”
“I tell you I didn’t know it.”
“Bunk,” Mason said.
“Honestly, Mr. Mason, everything else is just as I told you.”
Mason said, “Mattern, I’m getting damn tired of your lies… Know what I think I’ll do? I think I’ll go down to the D.A. and give him a tip on you.”
“You’ve got nothing on me,” Mattern said.
“No?” Mason asked with a cold smile.