"Well," Paul Drake told him, "I was coming to that. I've got a tip from police headquarters that the police interviewed Thelma Bell earlier in the evening. They didn't figure at the time that she was connected with the case sufficiently to warrant them in taking any steps. I think that they feel differently about it now. They think that she's got some important information that she concealed or that she could give. I understand they're going out to pick her up, and I was waiting to hear what she said. Have you any objections to that?"

"None whatever, my dear boy," said Perry Mason. "You wait right there until the police pick her up."

Smiling gently, Perry Mason slipped the receiver back on the hook.

Chapter 12

Morning sun was streaming through the streets of the city when Perry Mason aroused himself from the couch in the Turkish bath. His eyes were steady and clear. He had been freshly shaven, and his face showed no trace of fatigue.

From a telephone booth in the Turkish bath, he called the Drake Detective Bureau. The desk operator answered him.

"Paul Drake there?" he asked.

"No," she said, "Mr. Drake went out about half an hour ago."

"Do you know where he went?"

"Yes, he went home to get some sleep."

"This is Mason talking," the lawyer said. "Can you tell me how long he was there last night?"

"Oh, he stayed right up until half an hour ago," the girl said. "He was waiting for a telephone call. He expected to get some important information."

"And he didn't get it?"

"No, he waited all night, and then decided he'd get some sleep. He left word for me to call him if there were any new developments in that Patton case. He's working on that for you, isn't he?"

"And others," Mason said, with a smile.

"Do you want to call him at his apartment? I'll give you the number."

"No," Mason said, "I know the number. I just wanted to find out if he was still there. I didn't have anything important."

He hung up the telephone, his face wearing a broad smile, and went to the room where he had left his clothes; dressed, secured his valuables at the desk, and looked at his watch. It was eight thirtyfive.

He returned to the telephone booth and dialed the number of his own office. Della Street 's, "Good morning, this is Perry Mason's office," sounded crisp, fresh, and businesslike.

"Don't mention any names," Perry Mason said, "but this is the Mayor of Podunk. I want to see about floating a bond issue for —"

"Oh," she said, "I'm so glad you called," and there was relief in her tone.

"What's new?" he asked.

"Lots of things."

"Can you talk?"

"Yes, there's no one here right now except Mr. Bradbury, and I put him in the law library."

"What are the things you've got to tell me?" Mason asked. "Be careful how you mention them over the telephone."

"They all have to do with Bradbury," she told him.

"What about him?"

"He wants to see you, and he wants to see you right away."

"I don't want to see him," Mason said.

"I'm not certain about that," she said, "there's been something of a change come over him. I remember what you said about him, and I think you're right. He's a man who has to be reckoned with, and he's determined to see you. He says that if he doesn't see you within the next hour, it may make a great deal of difference to you, that if you should telephone and get in touch with me, I am to tell you that. That I am also to tell you he is not willing to allow a locked door to stand between the woman he loves and her freedom."

There was a moment of silence, while Perry Mason scowled thoughtfully.

"Do you get what he means by that?" she asked.

"I get it," Mason said, "and I might as well have a showdown with that bird now as later. He's not going to browbeat me."

"I think," she told him, "there are detectives watching the office."

"Yes," he said, "there would be. They want to pick me up. I tell you, Della, what you do. I'm about eight blocks from the office, at the Turkish bath that's right up the avenue. You get Bradbury and get in a taxicab. Drive up to the Turkish bath. I'll be standing in the doorway. You can pick me up."

"Do you think it's safe for me to leave with him? You don't think the detectives will suspect anything?"

"No, I don't think so," he told her, "and I want a witness along. You'd better put a pencil in your handbag, and have a notebook that you can use if it becomes necessary. I'm going to reach an understanding with Bradbury, and reach it right now."

"Okay chief," she told him, "we'll be there in about ten minutes, and please, chief, be careful."

Perry Mason was scowling thoughtfully as he dropped the receiver into place. He left the Turkish bath, climbed a flight of stairs, and emerged into the warm morning sunshine. He stood back in the recess which opened from the sidewalk, and watched the hurrying pedestrians pounding the pavement on their way to the office buildings in the downtown business section.

His eyes scrutinized the passing faces with the keen, quick interest of a man who has learned to judge character at a glance, and who is sufficiently interested in human nature to read the stories written on the faces of the throngs who jostle about the city streets.

Now and again some young, attractive woman, feeling the impact of his gaze, would glance either furtively or frankly into his keenly searching eyes. Occasionally some man, catching Mason's stare, would frown with resentment, or turn to regard Mason with a stare which said plainly enough that the man thought he had surprised a detective at work.

Mason had stood motionless for perhaps five minutes when a blonde young woman came hurrying along the street. She intuitively felt his eyes upon her, and raised her own eyes. Suddenly she smiled. Perry Mason raised his hat.

It was the young woman who ran the cigar counter in the lobby of his office building.

She abruptly turned toward him.

"Why so pensive, Mr. Mason?" she asked.

"Just trying to think of the answer to a question, Mamie. What are you hurrying so about?"

"Just the old grind."

"Do me a favor, will you, Mamie?"

"Sure."

"Forget you saw me here if any one should ask you."

"Dodging clients," she asked, "or the police?"

"Both," he told her, and grinned.

"I don't blame you for dodging your new client," she said.

He stared at her.

"Which one?"

"The one who always wears the brown suit, with the brown tie, the brown shirt, and the socks that go with his tie."

"You mean Bradbury?"

"Yes, the one who bought the cigars that you didn't smoke. Thanks for the business, Mr. Mason. I knew you didn't smoke cigars."

He laughed.

"We can't let any outoftown money get away from us, Mamie. What's the trouble between you and Bradbury?"

"Oh, nothing," she said, "except that I think he's a smalltown sport."

"What gives you that impression?"

"Oh, the way he acts. He stops to visit with me every time he comes in the building, and he keeps getting intimate."

"You mean with things he says?"

"Oh, no. He doesn't say so much; it's his tone and his eyes that get intimate. A girl can tell when a man's taking a personal interest."

Perry Mason looked over her trim figure with an approving eye.

"You can't blame him for that," he said.

She smiled frankly at him, and said, "Don't get me wrong, Mr. Mason. I like to have them look me over. It tickles my vanity, and it brings me business. But what I don't like are these counter loungers who think they can date you up, leave a big package for you to keep, and then expect the profit on a fivecent magazine to pay the traffic."

A taxicab pulled in close to the curb.