“I wouldn’t make the statement unless I could prove it,” Mason said, “and,” — with a dry smile — “for your own personal information, I think that some of the funds for Mrs. Moar’s defense will be contributed by your friend, Charles Whitmore Dail — that is if he has released an interview to the newspapers in which he accuses Moar of embezzlement.”
“Then Moar did win the money in a lottery?” Hungerford asked.
“I don’t know,” Mason said. “I’m afraid not.”
“Where did he get it?”
“That remains to be seen. Of course, we don’t know that the money which was found in a money belt under the mattress of Moar’s bed belonged to him. It may have belonged to Mrs. Moar.”
“What does she say about it?” Hungerford asked.
“She doesn’t say,” Mason said drily.
For a moment Hungerford was silent.
Mason said, in a kindly tone, “I want you to know these things, Hungerford, before you burn any bridges.”
“My bridges are burnt, as far as that’s concerned,” Hungerford told him simply. “There’s only one person in the world who can make me happy and that’s Belle. I want her.”