“Yes, but I had a key to it.”
“There’s a spring lock on the door?”
“Yes.”
Mason said, “Give me your key.”
She crossed to the table where she had tossed her purse, opened it, took out a key and handed it to him. He dropped it in his pocket. “Forget that you ever had this,” he told her. “Now, what did you do when you came out? Did you pull the door shut?”
“No. I left it part way open — just an inch or two.”
“Why?”
“I was afraid that when the blow-off came, they might claim I’d been the last one in — and that I had a key. By leaving the door slightly ajar — someone else might come to see Louie, and push the door open, and find him, and be on a spot that would let me out.”
Mason said, “You’re a cold-blooded little devil, aren’t you?”
“Christ, no!” she said. “I’ve always been too much the other way, but I’ve learned to think for myself in a jam. You would too, if you had them hand you the deals they’ve handed me.”