Drake slumped down dejectedly. “Oh — oh,” he said. “Here I thought I’d done something smart, when all I’d have had to do was sit in my office and open the newspaper... Just another case of the professional being trimmed by the gifted amateur.”
Mason grinned. “Anything more about Conway, Paul?”
“Nothing that helps. That twenty grand evidently made quite a difference to Conway. He sold his business to Guy T. Serle and gave Serle the right to keep on using the name of Conway Appliance Company.”
“Does Serle know where Conway is?”
“I don’t know. Look, Perry, what do you think of these?” He drew a pair of dice out of his pocket and threw them across the desk.
Mason looked at the dice, picked them up and rolled them three or four times, then laughed. “I’m ashamed of you, Paul,” he said.
Drake said seriously, “That’s the merchandise delivered to me by the Conway Appliance Company. Two pair of loaded dice, and a very special premium.”
Mason shook his head, slid open a desk drawer and threw the dice in it.
“What do you think the premium was, Perry?” Drake asked him.
“Marked cards.”