“Perry,” he said, “this doesn’t look so good.”
“Do you have some news of Della?”
“Yes.”
“Go ahead,” Mason told him, “spill it.”
Drake said, “After all, Perry, we don’t know that she was working on this evening gown business. She may have had reasons of her own—”
“Never mind the preliminaries,” Mason said. “What are you getting at?”
“Look here, Perry,” Drake blurted, “has it ever occurred to you that Della might... well, might walk out on you some day?”
Mason’s face darkened. “Damn you, Paul,” he said, “if you—”
“Now, take it easy, Perry,” Drake said, backing away. “After all, she may have met someone on the ship, or—”
Mason moved toward him belligerently. “Spill it,” he said. “Come on, Paul, out with it.”