“Now what?” Tragg whispered.
“Wait,” Mason said.
They waited in the darkness for almost a minute. Then quietly the door in the garage opened, and a dark figure tiptoed silently across the yard to the side door of the Hocksley flat. A key clicked against the lock. The door was opened, and the figure slipped inside.
Mason and Tragg moved cautiously across the lot. The door was still ajar. Motioning for silence, Mason led the way into the warm darkness of the flat. Listening intently, they could hear the sound of the dial on a telephone; then, after a moment, a woman’s voice sharp with emotion said, “What kind of a game do you think you’re playing? What’s this I heard about you marrying that little devil, that... Yes, you did, too! You were married to her this morning. Well, last night then. Don’t lie to me! After all I’ve done for you, don’t think I’m going to let you get away with that. The minute you try anything like that, you’re all finished... Well, he said so... Mr. Mason... I don’t think it was a trap. No. I didn’t say a word... You wouldn’t lie to me? You dar ling No-o-o-o-o. I didn’t really believe it, not down in my heart, but I wanted to find out. I–I must get back. The officers are over there. Mason is getting awfully close to what actually happened. You’ll have to do something about him at once. Remember now, I’ve taken care of the others for you. You’ve got to do this for me. All right, lover.”
The receiver clicked. There was the sound of rustling garments as a figure approached them.
“Okay,” Mason said in a low whisper.
Lieutenant Tragg’s flashlight sent a pencil of white brilliance through the darkness, a pencil which stabbed the white, frightened face of Rebecca Gentrie, and held it in a pitiless glare.
Chapter 19
Morning sun was touching the tips of the tall buildings as Mason, emerging from the Gentrie residence, helped Della Street into his automobile and said, “Well, I guess we’re entitled to play hookey today. Putting you on a day and night schedule and then having you type a confession afterwards is a little too much of a strain, isn’t it?”
She said, “Wouldn’t it be swell to take a plane over to Catalina, put on bathing suits, and just lie around in the sun, sleeping and eating hot dogs?”