“It’s a pretty slim gamble,” Mason told her. “There’s a heavy sea running. They might swing the ship broadside to the wind and launch boats in the lee, but I don’t think they’ll do it until they have something definite to go on. They’ll play searchlights on the water, throw flares overboard, and keep a sharp lookout. They certainly won’t risk men’s lives in an open boat unless there’s some indication the person’s still alive — and don’t forget that a shot was fired.”
“Do you suppose it could be Mr. Dail?” she asked. “Oh, Heavens! Carl wouldn’t have done that!”
“There’s no use speculating,” Mason told her. “Let’s get on deck. I want to find Carl.”
“And you’ll stand by me?” she asked.
“I’ll stand by you for Belle’s sake. But I’m not going to represent your husband.”
She nodded. “Come on, let’s go.”
As they were opening the door, Mrs. Newberry suddenly gave a gasp of dismay.
Mason turned to her. “What is it?” he asked.
“I just thought of something,” she said, in a voice which was hardly above a whisper.
“Go ahead,” Mason told her, “talk fast. What is it?”