Perry Mason nodded slowly. "That," he said, "is better. Now tell me, Doctor, where were you at two o'clock in the morning?"

"Asleep, of course."

Perry Mason said tonelessly, "Can you prove it?"

"I can prove it the same way any ordinary individual can. I went to bed and slept through until morning. A man doesn't ordinarily take an alibi to bed with him. Under the circumstances, I would think my statement would be sufficient."

"It would, Doctor," Mason said slowly and impressively, "if it weren't for the fact that the district attorney will question you and your Japanese servant about a telephone call that came in at two o'clock in the morning, and the statement that your Japanese man servant made that…" The expression on Doctor Millsap's face stopped Perry Mason in midsentence. "Well," he asked, "what about it?"

"Good God!" Millsap said. "How could the district attorney have found out about that telephone call? I didn't figure there was one chance in a million that telephone call would ever enter into the thing at all. My Japanese servant told me it was a man who seemed to be drunk, calling from a public pay station."

"How did he know the man was drunk?"

"I don't know. I guess he sounded drunk. All I know is what he told me when I came back… I mean…"

"Suppose," the lawyer suggested, "you tell me the facts."

Words spilled from the doctor's mouth. "I was there. Not at two o'clock, but later. I woke up and couldn't sleep. I knew Rhoda must have gone to keep her appointment. I looked at my wristwatch. I wondered what Rhoda was doing. I wondered if she was all right. I got up and dressed, drove to Norwalk Avenue. Rhoda's car was parked on a side street. I looked up at Moxley's apartment. The windows were all dark. I rang the bell of Moxley's apartment. No one answered. I kept ringing, minute after minute. I became alarmed when no one answered. If Rhoda's car hadn't been there I'd have thought Moxley was asleep. I decided to prowl around the back of the house and see if there was any way I could get in. But I didn't want to leave my car in front of the house, so I drove around the block, left my car, came through the alley, walking rather slowly, and then saw that lights were on in Moxley's apartment. I figured my ringing the doorbell had awakened him, so I walked around past the side street to go to the front of the house and ring the bell again, and then saw that Rhoda's car was gone."

"When you were ringing the doorbell," Mason said, "you were standing on the little porch near the street, is that right?"

"Yes."

"Could you hear the ringing of the bell in the upper apartment?"

"No, I couldn't hear the bell."

"Could you hear the sound of any struggle?"

"No, I couldn't hear anything."

Perry Mason frowned thoughtfully. "I wouldn't want to be quoted in what I am about to say," he said.

"What is it?" Doctor Millsap asked.

"You don't look well," Perry Mason said.

"Good God!" Millsap rejoined. "How did you think I'd look? This thing has been on my mind for days, ever since Rhoda told me Lorton was alive and in the city. I haven't been able to sleep. I haven't been able to eat. I can't concentrate. I can't handle my practice. I can't…"

"I said," Perry Mason interrupted, "that you didn't look well."

"Of course I don't look well, I don't feel well. I'm almost crazy!"

"What," asked Perry Mason, "would you advise a patient to do if he came to you in the mental state that you are now in—and if he didn't look well?"

"What are you driving at?"

"Would you advise, perhaps, a long ocean voyage?"

"I'd certainly advise a change of scenery. I wouldn't want…" Millsap stopped speaking abruptly in the middle of the sentence, his jaw sagging.

"As I remarked," said Perry Mason, getting to his feet, "I wouldn't want to be quoted in the matter, and I'm not a physician. In order to make it appear perfectly regular, you might consult some friendly physician. You don't need to tell him what's worrying you, but you can tell him that you're worrying yourself sick. You might even go so far as to ask him about an ocean voyage."

"You mean," Doctor Millsap asked slowly, "that I'm to get out where they can't reach me? Wouldn't that be running away and leaving Rhoda to stand the brunt of the thing alone?"

"As far as Rhoda is concerned," Mason said, "your presence here would do her more harm than good. My suggestion, however, has nothing to do with Rhoda. I'm merely interested in your health. You don't look well. There are circles under your eyes. Your manner is decidedly jumpy. By all means call on some reputable physician. Let him diagnose your case. In the meantime, here's one of my cards. If there should be any developments call on me at once."

Mason dropped his business card on Doctor Millsap's desk. Millsap jumped to his feet, grabbed Mason's hand and pumped it up and down. "Thanks, Counselor. It's an idea I hadn't thought of. It's swell. It's the best yet."

Mason started to say something, but stopped as the sounds of muffled commotion came from the outer office. The men heard the protesting voice of Doctor Millsap's office nurse. Perry Mason jerked open the door. The two detectives of the homicide squad who had arrested Rhoda Montaine at the airport stared at the lawyer with incredulous surprise, then their eyes shifted to Doctor Millsap. "Well, well," said one of the detectives, "you certainly do get around."

Perry Mason jerked his head toward Doctor Millsap. "Thank you, Doctor," he said, "for your diagnosis. If you ever need a lawyer, don't hesitate to call on me. In the meantime, I see these two men want to talk with you. For your information, they are detectives from the Homicide Bureau. I won't delay you any longer. Incidentally, as an attorney, I might tell you that you don't have to answer any questions you don't want to, and…"

"That's enough," one of the detectives said, advancing belligerently.

Perry Mason held his ground, his shoulders squared, his chin thrust forward, granitesteady eyes holding the detective in scornful appraisal. "And," continued Perry Mason, "if you should need an attorney, you've got my telephone number on that card on your desk. I don't know what these men want, but if I were in your place I wouldn't answer any questions."

Mason pushed past the detectives, without looking back. They glowered at him for a moment, then strode into the private office and slammed the door shut. Outside, in the entrance room, Doctor Millsap's office nurse dropped her head to the crook of her elbow, pillowed it on her desk and sobbed. Perry Mason stared at her for several seconds, his forehead furrowed in thoughtful appraisal. Then he slipped through the outer door and silently closed it behind him.

Chapter 10

Morning sun streamed through the windows of Perry Mason's office. The telephone rang. A long, thin shadow blotched against the frosted glass of the corridor door, then the knob turned, and Paul Drake entered the room as Della Street's busy fingers snapped the keys on the telephone board. Perry Mason opened the door from his inner office. "For you, chief," Della Street said, indicating the telephone.

Mason grinned at the detective. "See if it's important, Della," he told her.

Paul Drake held out a couple of newspapers. "See what's happened?" he asked. Mason raised his eyebrows in mute interrogation. Drake made a gesture of utter weariness, and said. "She's spilled her guts."

The lawyer stared steadily at the detective, his feet planted wide apart. Slowly he smiled. Della Street slammed the telephone back into place, looked up at Perry Mason, her face white with rage. "What's your trouble, sister?" Mason asked.

"That," she said, "was some smart aleck at headquarters who wanted to tell you—in a voice that fairly oozed gloating triumph—that your client, Rhoda Montaine, had just finished signing a statement in the district attorney's office, and that you could see her at any time. He said you wouldn't need a writ of habeas corpus; that she was being charged with murder in the first degree and that the authorities at the jail would be only too glad to let you see her at any time you wanted—and he put just the right amount of nasty sarcastic emphasis upon the 'too. "