Mason gestured toward the ten-dollar bill. “Well, it’s your money,” he said. “You won the bet.”
“Oh, I couldn’t take the money, Mr. Mason.”
“Why not?”
“The odds were too great. My heavens! It was interesting seeing you try to describe Sis, and I’m all wrapped up in mental telepathy and character reading. I’ll bet you’re a Leo, Mr. Mason. You have—”
“If I’d won the bet,” Mason said sternly, “I’d have taken your dime. Now then, young lady, under those circumstances, you take that ten dollars.”
She picked up the ten-dollar bill, slowly folded it. “I don’t feel right about this,” she protested. Mason laughed, shook hands and said, “Thanks a lot for your cooperation.”
“And you’ll keep it under cover about Sis?”
“Yes,” Mason promised. “I won’t say anything about what you’ve told me. If, of course, I should get the information from some other source, I couldn’t guarantee...”
“Oh, that’s all right. As far as that’s concerned I don’t think it makes any great difference, except that I don’t want Sis to think I gave her away. Gee, Mr. Mason, I still don’t feel right about this ten dollars!
Mason laughed, took Drake’s arm and moved toward the elevator. Marian Whiting slowly closed the door of the apartment.