Again, Mason’s answer was merely a nod.

“But,” Grover went on, “I want you to know that I’ll stick.”

Mason thought that over for a moment, then held Grover’s eyes. “For how long?”

“All the way.”

“No matter what the evidence shows?”

Grover said, “The evidence shows the woman I love was living with Carver Clements as his mistress. The evidence simply can’t be right. I love her, and I’m going to stick. I want you to tell her that, and I want you to know that. What you’re going to have to do will take money. I’m here to see that you have what money you need—all you want, in fact.”

“That’s fine,” Mason said. “Primarily, what I need is a little moral support. I want to be able to tell Fay Allison that you’re sticking, and I want some facts.”

“What facts?”

“How long have you been going with Fay Allison?”

“A matter of three or four months. Before then I was—well, sort of squiring both of the girls around.”

“You mean Anita Bonsal?”

“Yes. I met Anita first. I went with her for a while. Then I went with both. Then I began to gravitate toward Fay Allison. I thought I was just making dates. Actually, I was falling in love.”

“And Anita?”

“She’s like a sister to both of us. She’s been simply grand in this whole thing. She’s promised me that she’ll do everything she can.”

“Could Fay Allison have been living with Carver Clements?”

“She had the physical opportunity, if that’s what you mean.”

“You didn’t see her every night?”

“No.”

“What does Anita say?”

“Anita says the charge is ridiculous.”

“Do you know of any place where Fay Allison could have had access to cyanide of potassium?”

“That’s what I wanted to tell you about, Mr. Mason. Out at my place the gardener uses it. I don’t know just what for, but—well, out there the other day, when he was showing Fay around the place—”

“Yes, yes,” Mason said impatiently, as Grover paused; “go on.”

“Well, I know the gardener told her to be very careful not to touch that sack because it contained cyanide. I remember she asked him a few questions about what he used it for, but I wasn’t paying much attention. It’s the basis of some sort of spray.”

“Has your gardener read the papers?”

Grover nodded.

“Can you trust him?”

“Yes. He’s very loyal to all our family. He’s been with us for twenty years.”

“What’s his name?”

“Barney Sheff. My mother—well, rehabilitated him.”

“He’d been in trouble? In the pen?”

“That’s right. He had a chance to get parole if he could get a job. Mother gave him the job.”

“I’m wondering if you have fully explored the possibilities of orchid growing.”

“We’re not interested in orchid growing. We can buy them and—”

“I wonder,” Mason said in exactly the same tone, “if you have fully investigated the possibilities of growing orchids.”

“You mean—Oh, you mean we should send Barney Sheff to—”