"Not by a long ways," said Mason, with a degree of respect in his tone. "I was simply remarking that you'd handed me a big order."

Bradbury pulled a wallet from his pocket.

"Now that we have discussed that phase of the situation," he said, "I am perfectly willing to admit that it is a big order, and I am perfectly willing to admit that I expected to pay for it. I have given you a retainer of one thousand dollars. I now hand to your secretary an additional four thousand dollars. I expect to give you further compensation when a verdict of not guilty is returned by the jury."

With the crisp efficiency of a banker, Bradbury counted out bills to the amount of four thousand dollars, and handed them to Della Street.

She looked questioningly at Perry Mason.

Perry Mason nodded.

"Well," Perry Mason said, "we understand each other, anyway. That's one satisfaction. But I want you to understand this, Bradbury. I will endeavor to represent both Dr. Doray and Marjorie Clune. I will endeavor to secure a favorable verdict. I will call your attention, however, to the same thing that you have told me about yourself. That is, that you are a fighter. I, too, am a fighter. You fight for yourself. I fight for my clients. When I start in fighting for Marjorie Clune and Dr. Doray, I'm going to fight. There are not going to be any halfway measures."

Bradbury's face did not so much as change expression by the slightest flicker of a muscle.

"I don't give a damn what you do," he said, " — if you will pardon my French, Miss Street—or how you do it. All I know is that I want to be certain those two persons are acquitted."

Della Street spoke hotly.

"I'm not entirely in the dark about what you have reference to, Mr. Bradbury," she said. "I think you're perfectly horrid. Mr. Mason went out of his way to give you protection for the person you had employed him to protect. He did things that —"

"Steady, Della," warned Perry Mason.

She caught his eye, and was suddenly silent.

"I see," said Bradbury, "that she knows."

"You see nothing," said Mason grimly. "And I want to tell you right now, Bradbury, that you'll do a lot better for yourself and for your clients if you keep your finger out of the pie. We understand each other, and that's enough."

"That's enough," said Bradbury.

"Furthermore," Mason said, "I don't want any more of your veiled threats made to my secretary. I don't want you to try and browbeat her into getting any more interviews with me."

"I am not going to ask for any more interviews with you," Bradbury said. "I have given you my ultimatum. It stands. I am going to have nothing whatever to say about methods. I am going to hold you strictly accountable for results."

Della Street opened her mouth to say something, sucked in her breath with a quick intake; then, as she looked at Perry Mason's grim face, became silent.

Mason looked at Bradbury.

"All right," he said, "I'll get out here. You can take Della Street back to the office. You pay for the cab."

Bradbury nodded.

"See that he gets a receipt for the retainer," Mason said.

"Needless to say," Bradbury warned, "time is of the greatest value. The police are building up a dangerous case against Dr. Doray."

"Did you know they'd identified him as the purchaser of the knife?" asked Perry Mason.

Bradbury's face showed surprised consternation.

"You mean that they've proven he was the one that bought the knife that stabbed Patton?"

"Yes."

"Good God!" said Bradbury, and slumped back against the cushions of the cab and stared at the lawyer, his mouth sagging slightly open, his eyes wide.

"You knew that they'd located his car as having been parked near the vicinity of the crime?" asked Mason.

"Yes, I knew that. That's why I thought they had a damaging case against him. But, this other, my God, that's conclusive, isn't it?"

Perry Mason made a shrugging gesture with his shoulders.

"May I ask," he said, "why you are suddenly so anxious to have Dr. Doray acquitted?"

"That," said Bradbury, "is my business."

"I had rather gathered," Mason said, "that Dr. Doray was your rival for the affections of Miss Clune; that you didn't have any feeling of friendship for him—that is, no particular love."

"My feelings toward Dr. Doray haven't the slightest bearing on the case whatever," Bradbury remarked in a tone of voice which was doubtless intended as a rebuke. "You are an attorney. You make a business of representing people who are accused of crime, and securing acquittals. I have told you that I shall expect an acquittal of Dr. Doray as well as of Margy. If they're not acquitted on the evidence that the police produce, I propose to take steps, through other counsel, to see that the real facts are called to the attention of the court in order to secure a new trial."

"The facts, I take it," Perry Mason said, "relating to the locked door."

"Correct."

"Well, you're plain enough," Mason told him.

He grinned reassuringly at Della Street.

"Don't worry, Della," he said, "I've been in worse jams than this before."

"But," she said hotly, "how can he —?"

Mason frowned and shook his head.

"Della," he said, "the weather is delightful."

"Yes?" she asked.

"And," said Perry Mason, "whenever you discuss any subject with Mr. Bradbury, I want it to be the subject of the weather. The weather is always a very engrossing subject of conversation. It is virtually inexhaustible. Please see that Bradbury confines himself to it."

"Don't worry," Bradbury said, with a sudden frank smile twisting his lips, "I fight a fighter, Mason. I don't pick on women. I couldn't help observing that your secretary was fully familiar with the point I was making as I made it. That would seem to indicate that —"

Perry Mason interrupted with firmly insistent tones.

"The weather, Mr Bradbury," he said, "is delightful for this time of year. It is unusually warm."

Bradbury nodded.

"And, as I was about to remark," he said, "I shall attempt to take no advantage of you because of anything Miss Street might say or do."

Perry Mason pulled open the door of the taxicab, climbed to the sidewalk, and cocked an appraising eye at the cloudless sky. Then he raised his hat.

"There is a chance," he said, "that it may cloud over this afternoon."

Bradbury started to say something, but the banging of the taxicab door cut off his sentence, and Perry Mason was striding down the side street back toward the avenue.

Chapter 13

Perry Mason took a taxicab to the airport. Within ten minutes, the young woman at the information desk in the office had placed him in touch with an aviator who was willing to charter a fast cabin plane by the hour. The lawyer sized up the aviator with eyes that showed approval. He pulled a wallet from his pocket, took out crisp, new bills, and handed them to the aviator.

"You're ready to go?"

"It'll take a very few minutes to get it warmed up," the aviator told him. "She's all ready—that is, all filled with gas and inspected."

"Let's go," Perry Mason said.

The aviator smiled.

"You haven't told me yet where you want to go to," he said.

"I'll tell you that while you're getting the plane warmed up," Mason told him.

They walked down the wide cement walk. A small, snubnosed cabin plane glistened in the sun.

"That's the job," said the aviator.

Perry Mason looked it over while two mechanics swung it into position, put blocks under the wheels, and started the motor warming up.

"There's a mail plane leaves here around midnight," Mason said. "I want to follow that mail plane."

The pilot stared at him.

"You'll never catch it. Why it's as far as —"