“Yes, that sounds logical,” Mason said, and yawned. “Well, it’s time for me to turn in.”
Della Street was watching him closely, her forehead puckered into a curious frown.
Mrs. Gentrie made no attempt to conceal her concern. She asked, “What am I going to do about Junior? I’ve got to do something for him. That’s what I wanted to see you about. Isn’t there something we can do? And what about Steele?”
“Let it go until noon,” Mason said. “By that time, I’ll have found out just what Tragg’s planning to do. In all probability, he just wanted to make the boy talk and used that method to do it.”
“Well, he won’t talk, not as far as that woman is concerned.”
Mason started for the cellar stairs. “Well, there’s nothing more we can do tonight.”
“You’ll find out about Junior in the morning?”
Mason nodded. “First thing,” he promised.
“Please be quiet going out,” she requested. “I don’t want anyone to know I was down in the cellar at this hour, or that I’ve been up so late.”
At the front door, Mason whispered, “Try and get some sleep if you can. There’s nothing you can do. I’ll get busy just as soon as things open up. Good night.”