“No.”
“And you’re sure there wasn’t a light in the hospital?”
“Quite certain.”
Mason said, “Look up at me. I want to impress something on you.”
“Go ahead,” she said, avoiding his eyes.
“No, look up here.”
She raised sullen, defiant eyes.
Mason said, “I want you to listen carefully to everything I say.”
“Go on and say it,” she said impatiently, “and don’t beat around the bush.
Mason said, “You told the captain you didn’t go on deck. You insisted that you’d left the dining saloon, gone to your stateroom, and your husband had left you there. Now then, you’re going to have to change that story. Public sentiment is a funny thing. You can change your story once and get away with it, if you have some good explanation as to why you didn’t tell the truth the first time. But you can never change your story twice. The next time you talk, you’re going to have to tell the truth, and you’re going to need some mighty good explanation of why you didn’t tell the truth the first time. Now then, don’t make any other statement until you’re prepared to go the whole way. I want the truth and the whole truth... Where did you get that money?”