Mason snapped a match into flame, lit his cigarette and said, “Thanks,” when Evelyn Whiting handed him an ash tray. He settled back comfortably in the chair and said, “I’m a lawyer, Eves. I’m representing Mrs. Moar. The D.A. is trying to frame a first-degree on her. Your wife was on the ship coming over, nursing a chap with a broken neck. She knew Moar before he was married. Moar was on the ship under the name of Newberry. I had a hunch she might know something which would help me, so I came out and asked her.”
“All right,” Eves said, in a flat monotone. “You asked her. What did she say?”
Mason glanced inquiringly at the nurse. She nodded imperceptibly. Mason said, “Before I came out here I looked her up. I knew you’d been married and had sailed for Honolulu on your honeymoon. She told me you were called off the ship and she went over by herself. She got lonesome, so when she had a chance to come over and join you, and make a little money on the side, she did it.”
Eves laughed bitterly and said, “Lonesome, hell! She came over to check up on me. She thought I was two-timing her.”
“That’s all right with me,” Mason told him. “You can straighten out your domestic affairs without my help. I’m interested in protecting my client.”
“What else did you tell him, Evelyn?” Eves asked.
“Nothing else,” she said. “That’s all there is to tell, isn’t it?”
Eves thought for a minute. Then he walked forward to sit down in a chair. He lit a cigarette, studied Mason thoughtfully and said, “Okay, Mason, I’m for a good mouthpiece myself. I’ll give you a break. We can do a hell of a good turn for you any time you say the word.”
“I’m saying the word,” Mason told him.
“With what? Money, marbles or chalk?”