"That's all right," said Mason easily, "you're not using my name, that's all. Simply put it down as coming from a source that is close to the inside."

"My God!" said Nevers. "That would be the worst kind of libel if we couldn't back it up!"

"You can back it up," said Mason. "If anybody calls you on it, you can disclose the source of your information."

"Meaning that it came from you?"

"Meaning that it came from me," Mason told him.

Nevers took a deep breath.

"Listen, Perry," he said, "I've seen 'em come, and I've seen 'em go. I've been in on all kinds of cases, interviewed all kinds of people. I've seen those that were foxy, and those that just thought they were foxy. I've seen those that were dumb, and didn't know it, and those that were dumb, and thought they were smart, but you've got the whole world cheated. This is the damnedest interview with a lawyer I ever had!"

Mason placed his right hand between the reporter's shoulder blades and gently pushed him into the outer office.

"All right," he said, "I've given you a break. Give me one."

Frank Everly was standing in the outer office, his manner filled with impatience.

"Did you want to see me?" asked Perry Mason.

Everly nodded.

"Come in," Mason told him.

Everly walked into the inner office. Perry Mason stood in the door until Harry Nevers had gone out through the outer door, then Mason closed the door of the inner office, and turned to face Everly.

Everly coughed and averted his eyes.

"Didn't the case move rather expeditiously, Mr. Mason?" he asked.

Mason smiled at him with patient, tired eyes.

"In other words," he said, "you've been hearing some comments that I've stubbed my toe on the defense, and the prosecution is walking all over me, is that it?"

Everly turned red and said in a choked voice: "I didn't say anything like that, Mr. Mason."

"Did you ever hear the story," asked Perry Mason, in a kindly tone of voice, "of the man who brought suit against his neighbor, claiming to have been bitten by the neighbor's dog? The neighbor filed an answer in which he denied that his dog was vicious, denied that the dog had bitten the man, and denied that he ever had a dog."

"Yes," said Frank Everly, "I've heard that yarn. It's a classic around law school."

"All right," said Perry Mason. "The defense in that case became humorous because it took in too much territory. Now, when you've got a doubtful case, it's all right to try and have two strings to your bow. But remember that when you have two strings on a bow, while increasing the factor of safety, you lose the efficiency of the weapon. A bow that has two strings won't break a string, but it won't shoot an arrow one quarter of the distance that it would if it only had one string to it."

"You mean you're sacrificing everything in this case to concentrate on some one point?" asked the law clerk.

"Yes," said Perry Mason, "the innocence of Frances Celane and Rob Gleason is virtually shown by the evidence as it exists at the present time. The guilt of the defendants simply cannot be proved beyond a reasonable doubt. But I want to do more than raise a reasonable doubt in the minds of the jurors. I want to make a complete solution of the case."

Frank Everly stared at Perry Mason with wide, incredulous eyes.

"My heavens!" he said. "I thought that everything that went in today clinched the guilt of Frances Celane and Rob Gleason. I thought that unless we could break down the stories of some of those witnesses, we could just as well figure on a verdict of first degree murder."

Mason shook his head wearily.

"No," he said, "the big point I wanted in the case has already gone in. What I'm trying to do now is to crash that point home to the jury in such a dramatic manner they'll never forget it. And remember this—I've got Claude Drumm so badly rattled the way that case is going that he's on the verge of panic right now. He figures I must have an ace up my sleeve somewhere, or I wouldn't be giving him all the breaks."

"The jury," suggested Frank Everly, "looked rather unsympathetic."

"Of course they looked unsympathetic," said Perry Mason. "And they'll probably look more unsympathetic. You notice what Claude Drumm is doing. He's putting in the corpus delicti with just a smattering of testimony. Just before he gets ready to rest his case, he'll start introducing photographs of the dead body slumped over the desk, of the bloody blotter, of the insurance policy, spattered with the life blood of the dead man, and all of that stuff. Then, he'll throw the case into our laps, and leave us to face a jury that's hardened its heart to bring in a death penalty verdict."

"What I don't see," said Everly, "is how you're going to stop him."

"I'm not going to try to stop him," smiled Perry Mason, "I'm going to head him off."

Della Street walked into the room.

"Mr. Drake is out there," she said, "and says it's important."

Perry Mason smiled at her.

"He'll have to wait just a minute," he said, "I'm explaining something to Frank Everly."

Della Street looked at Perry Mason with eyes that were warm with tenderness.

"I can remember," she said softly, "when I made you explain something to me. After that, I've had enough faith in you so I don't need any explanations."

Perry Mason watched her with speculative eyes.

"You've read the papers?" he asked.

"The afternoon papers, yes."

"And you know how the trial is going?"

"Yes."

"You gathered that I was putting up a pretty weak defense?"

She stiffened slightly, and looked accusingly at Frank Everly.

"Who said that?" she asked.

"It's intimated in the newspapers," said Perry Mason.

"Well," said Della Street, "I just made a bet of half of my month's salary, with Paul Drake, that you were going to get both defendants acquitted. That shows how much faith I've got in you."

"Then," said Perry Mason, "Drake must have some bad news. You two get out of here and let me talk with him. You know he's doing some work for me on this case. He's probably got some inside information. It wasn't very sporting of him to bet on his inside information."

"That's all right," Della Street said. "He was square about it. He told me he had some inside information."

"Did he tell you what it was?"

"No, he just said he had it, and I told him I had some too."

"What did you have?" asked Perry Mason, staring speculatively at her.

"Faith in you," she said.

Mason waved his hand.

"All right," he said, "you folks get out and let me talk with Drake. We'll see what he's got to say."

Drake came into the inner office, sat down, grinned, and rolled a cigarette.

"Well," he said, "I've got the lowdown for you."

"All right," Perry Mason said, "what is it?"

"The rough shadow did it," said Drake.

"Never mind the methods," said Mason. "I want the facts."

"Well," said Drake, "the story goes like this. This Mrs. Mayfield is a hardboiled baby."

"I knew she was," said Mason. "She tried to hold me up a couple of times."

"Yes, I got all the lowdown on that, too," said Drake. "The only trouble is, Perry, that it looks like hell for your clients."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, in the first place, Mrs. Mayfield doesn't know quite as much as she tried to pretend she did. She made the mistake of going to bed at the wrong time. She went to bed just about fifteen or twenty minutes before the murder was committed. But she'd spent the evening snooping around.

"It all starts in with the fact that she found out Gleason and Frances Celane were married. She started in trying to capitalize on that knowledge. She took quite a bit of money from Frances Celane; I don't know how much, around ten thousand dollars, I think. And then, in some way, Edward Norton got wise that Frances Celane was paying blackmail. He got her in and tried to make her tell him whom she was paying money to and why. Naturally, she didn't dare to let him know. But Norton was a pretty obstinate individual, and, in order to find out, he shut off the girl's allowance. That put her in the position of having no money with which to pay any blackmail.