“You’re working?” Mason inquired. “Pardon me, I’m not trying to pry into your affairs, but...”
“It’s quite all right, Mr. Mason,” she told him. “No, I’m not working now. I’m looking for a secretarial position. I have two or three offers but they’re not just what I want and I’m able to hold out for a while...”
“That isn’t what I’m interested in,” Mason said. “I was wondering if your time was your own.”
“Yes. Why?”
“Did you,” Mason inquired with an elaborately casual manner, “go down to the dock to see your sister off?”
She laughed. “I’ll say I did. Four or five of her friends fixed up a stunt sailing basket for her. It had fruit and nuts on top and was all covered with cellophane and looked like a regular sailing basket, but down underneath we had all sorts of stuff for practical jokes.”
“Did she get a kick out of it?” Mason asked.
“I’ll say! You should have seen the letter she sent back on the Clipper.”
Mason got to his feet and said, “Well, thanks a lot for the information... Oh, by the way, do you know where your sister’s staying at the present time in Honolulu?”
“Yes. Would you like her address?”