“No,” Mason said, “but it affects Belle. When Roy Hungerford learns that Celinda was on that ship posing as a friend of Belle Newberry, asking her to attend week-end parties after the ship had docked, and all the time planning to humiliate her at the gangplank by showing that her stepfather was an embezzler, Hungerford will have a very accurate appraisal of just what your daughter considers fair play.”
“Oh, I say,” Dail protested, his face flushing, “isn’t that hitting below the belt?”
Mason said, “Dail, when I’m fighting for a client, I hit where it’s going to hurt the most. You might tell Celinda what to expect in the line of cross-examination.”
“I’d like very much to avoid this,” Dail said.
Mason got to his feet and crossed to the door. “I feel quite certain that you would,” he said. “In fact, Mr. Dail, thinking back on it, I have a very clear recollection of the charming urbanity with which you signified your willingness to discuss a monetary settlement with Moar. Knowing the plans which you had in the back of your mind, I can only call your attention to the old proverb about chickens coming home to roost.”
Dail tried to make his exit dignified. He turned on the threshold and said, “You can’t get away with it, Mason. You’ll find that I draw some water around here. Good night!”
He slammed the door.
Mason grinned across at Della Street.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Chief.”
“Why not?”