Drake slowly doubled up his knees, arose from the chair, extended a languid hand.

"Glad to know you, Doctor," he said. "I've heard a lot about you from Perry Mason. I always remembered what he said about you when you'd been examining one of his clients on a sanity test."

"Indeed?" Dr. Jason inquired.

"Mason said that when you started worming your way into a man's consciousness, you were as persistent as the head of a wild oat working up a man's sleeve."

Dr. Jason laughed. "I only wish he'd say that publicly. It would be the best advertisement I could have. It doesn't exactly coincide with what he said about me to the jury in his last case."

District Attorney Burger, indicating chairs, puffed nervously on his cigar. "Doctor," he said, "I have a problem. A house burns, a man's body is found. Apparently he has burned to death in his bed. There was no suggestion of anything sinister in that death. Now, then, witnesses appear who can testify that a man, who might have profited very materially by the death of this person, was in a garage, with a flexible tube running from the exhaust pipe of his automobile to a hole cut in the pipe of a hot air furnace which led to this man's room. The fire may well have been of incendiary origin. Is it possible that sufficient carbon monoxide gas could have been introduced into the room in this way to have brought about the man's death?"

"Quite readily possible," Dr. Jason admitted, his eyes shifting from Drake to Mason.

"The man would have died in his sleep?"

"It is very likely. Carbon monoxide is a very insidious poison. There are numerous instances of persons who have been working in closed garages where motor cars were running and who died without being able to reach the outer air."

"How could you tell if a person died of carbon monoxide poisoning?"

"There are several methods. One of the most usual is to notice the color of the blood. It is a bright, cherryred."

"And, if a person was burned to death, could you detect the presence of carbon monoxide?"

"Wait a minute," Dr. Jason said slowly. "You are overlooking something. If a person burnt to death, we would have every reason to expect that carbon monoxide would be present in his lungs. In fact, it might well be that the person had suffocated from monoxide incidental to the fire."

"In that case, Doctor, would it be possible to tell from an examination of the body whether the man had been murdered by this method before the house was fired?"

Dr. Jason's glittering eyes stared searchingly at Perry Mason. "How long before the fire was the monoxide introduced into this man's room by means of the automobile exhaust?"

"Probably two or three hours."

Dr. Jason nodded slowly. "I think," he said to Hamilton Burger, "that we could tell from an inspection of the body. It would, of course, depend somewhat upon the condition of the body after the fire. I would say that it would be quite possible to make this determination. Blisters, which are formed by heat when the tissues are able to react, usually vary greatly from evidences of heat applied after death."

"In other words, we should exhume the body?" Burger inquired.

Dr. Jason nodded.

Burger got to his feet with a peculiar lunging motion, as though about to charge some obstacle. "Well," he said, "if we're going to tackle this thing, we may as well make a good job of it. I'll get an order permitting us to exhume the body."

Chapter 7

Rain seeped silently down prom the midnight sky, dripped in mournful cadences from the glistening leaves of the trees, gave forth hissing noises as the drops struck against the hot hoods of the gasoline lanterns which illuminated the scene.

A grassy slope studded with marble headstones stretched from a circle of vivid illumination into a mysterious border of dripping darkness.

There was no wind.

Hamilton Burger, a big overcoat covering his broad shoulders, the wide collar turned up about his ears, was plainly impatient. "Can't you fellows speed it up a little bit?" he asked.

One of the shovelers cast him a resentful glance. "There ain't room enough for any more men," he said, "and we're working at top speed. We're almost there, anyhow."

He wiped a perspiring forehead with a soggy coat sleeve, and fell once more to rapid shoveling. A moment later the blades of one of the shovels gave forth a peculiar sound as it struck something solid.

"Take it easy," the other shoveler cautioned. "Don't let him rush you. We've got to get the dirt from around the edges before we can raise it up. Get ropes on the handles, and then these fellows that are just standing around can get some exercise."

Burger ignored the sarcastic comment, to lean forward and look down into the oblong hole.

Perry Mason lit a cigarette and stamped his soggy shoes. Paul Drake, sidling up to him, said, "Won't your face be red if the medico says the guy really burned to death?"

Mason shook his head impatiently.

"All I did was to report facts. Personally, I think they're going at this thing backwards. If they'd get Edith DeVoe and then drag Sam Laxter in for questioning they'd stand more chance of getting somewhere."

"Yeah," Drake said, "but then Burger would be out in the open investigating Peter Laxter's death. He's afraid that's just what you want him to do, so he'll sort of sneak up on the case from the back way and convince himself he's got a case before he makes any overt moves. He's played with you before, you know. He's a burnt child who dreads the fire."

"Well," Mason said disgustedly, "he's too damn cautious. This case is going to slip through his fingers if he isn't careful. He may dread the fire, but he can't cook dough into cake without using fire, and even then he can't eat his cake and have it too."

Tom Glassman, chief investigator for the district attorney, blew his nose violently. "What's good to keep from taking cold at a time like this, Doc?" he asked.

Dr. Jason said, unsympathetically, "Staying in a warm bed… They would have to pick a rainy night to do this. The man's been buried for days, but no one takes any interest in him until it starts to rain."

"How long will it take you to tell what you want after examining the body?"

"It may not take very long. It will depend somewhat on the extent to which the body was charred by heat."

"Bring out that coil of rope," one of the men in the grave ordered, "and get ready to pull. We can get the rope around the handles now."

A few moments later, with everyone straining on ropes, the coffin jerked, and started its uneven journey upward.

"Pull steady on them ropes, now; don't get it tilted up at one end, and take it easy."

The coffin reached the surface. Boards were shoved under it. Then the coffin slid along the wet, muddy boards until it rested on the firm ground.

One of the men produced a cloth and wiped the soil from the top of the coffin. A screwdriver made its appearance. After a moment, the lid of the coffin was swung back and a voice said, "Okay, Doc, it's all yours."

Dr. Jason stepped forward, leaned over the coffin, gave an exclamation, and tugged a flashlight from his pocket.

The men shuffled around in a circle, but, as yet, no one had picked up the gasoline lantern, so that the interior of the coffin was plunged in shadow.

"What's the verdict, Doctor?" the district attorney inquired.

Dr. Jason's pocket flashlight illuminated the interior of the coffin. His fingers moved the charred body.

"It's going to be hard to tell. The man's been burned to a crisp. I'll have to look for some place where clothing protected the skin somewhat."

"How about monoxide?"

"No need testing for that. It would be present anyway."

"Well, can you go ahead with your examination?"