Rage glittered in her cold gray eyes.
“You employed private counsel?” Mason asked.
“I did. That’s where I made my next mistake. It was too late for lawyers then. I should have employed good detectives. The lawyers took my money and puttered around. They said that the home had destroyed all of its records, fearing criminal prosecution, that it had scattered — as they said — to the four winds… Four winds nothing! They’d simply moved to Colorado and started all over again under another name. That was something else I didn’t know.”
“How did you finally get the information?” Mason asked.
“By persistence and a little luck,” she said. “One of the men, who had been in their bookkeeping department had, of course, remembered the entire transaction because of the commotion I’d raised, finally got in touch with lawyers who in turn got in touch with me… They wanted to sell the information of course.”
“What did you do?” Mason asked.
“I suppose I should have gone to the authorities, but I’d had a bitter dose of that medicine so I paid through the nose and got the information.”
“Which shows?” Mason asked.
“The child was given the name of Byrl. She was adopted by a Mr. and Mrs. Gailord. They lived here in this city.”
“How long ago was that?” Mason asked.