"MR. MASON, I'M GOING TO CONFIDE IN YOU." DAPHNE MILFIELD PAUSED, AND SEEMED TO BRACE HERSELF. THE RINGING OF THE TELEPHONE FROZE THE WORDS ON HER LIPS. "PERHAPS YOUR HUSBAND NOW" PERRY MASON SUGGESTED. SHE PICKED UP THE RECIEVER. "WHY NO, I DON'T KNOW A MR. TRAGG ... LIEUTENENANT TRAGG? NO, I DON'T ... HE DOES? ... HE IS?" "THE NERVE OF THAT MAN!" SHE EXCLAIMED, DROPPING THE RECIEVER BACK IN PLACE. "HE'S ON HIS WAY UP HERE." "LIEUTENANT TRAGG IS FROM HEADQUARTERS - HOMICIDE," MASON SAID. "WHO DO YOU KNOW THATS BEEN MURDERED?" "GOOD HEAVENS! NO ONE, EXCEPT PERHAPS MY ..." "GO ON." "NO! NO! NO ONE." "WERE YOU ABOUT TO SAY 'MY HUSBAND'?"
Description:
"MR. MASON, I'M GOING TO CONFIDE IN YOU." DAPHNE MILFIELD PAUSED, AND SEEMED TO BRACE HERSELF. THE RINGING OF THE TELEPHONE FROZE THE WORDS ON HER LIPS. "PERHAPS YOUR HUSBAND NOW" PERRY MASON SUGGESTED. SHE PICKED UP THE RECIEVER. "WHY NO, I DON'T KNOW A MR. TRAGG ... LIEUTENENANT TRAGG? NO, I DON'T ... HE DOES? ... HE IS?" "THE NERVE OF THAT MAN!" SHE EXCLAIMED, DROPPING THE RECIEVER BACK IN PLACE. "HE'S ON HIS WAY UP HERE." "LIEUTENANT TRAGG IS FROM HEADQUARTERS - HOMICIDE," MASON SAID. "WHO DO YOU KNOW THATS BEEN MURDERED?" "GOOD HEAVENS! NO ONE, EXCEPT PERHAPS MY ..." "GO ON." "NO! NO! NO ONE." "WERE YOU ABOUT TO SAY 'MY HUSBAND'?"