“Yes.”
“May I see it?”
She made as though to open her purse, then shook her head and said, “No.”
“Why not?”
“The letter is personal,” she said. “I understand that, to a certain extent, my privacy must of necessity be invaded by authorities making an investigation, but I am not going to surrender his letters, unless it becomes absolutely imperative.”
“It’s going to become imperative,” Mason said. “If he left letters with someone to be mailed at various times and places, that someone may have been the last person to have seen him alive.”
She remained silent.
“When were you married?” Mason asked.
“August twenty-seventh.”
“Where?”