"You can't be mistaken, Paul?"

"Not a chance."

"But his son told me that his father was in Chicago."

"The son might have been lying or the father might have been lying."

"Perhaps the old man's lying," Mason said. "The son isn't. If Carl had known his father was here in the city he'd have brought the old man along to give him moral support when he first came here. Carl's the type who needs some one to back his play. He's relied on his dad all his life. The old man may have been here without letting the son know he was here."

"Why would he do that?" Drake asked.

"I don't know, but maybe I can find out. Did he see you, Paul?"

"Sure he saw me. What's more I think he remembered me. But I pulled a deadpan on him and he doesn't know I've spotted him. He thinks I'm just a client. I'll duck out now. I wanted you to have the lowdown before you saw him."

Mason said slowly, "There's one other explanation, Paul. This guy may not be Montaine at all."

The detective nodded slow agreement.

"But why," demanded Della Street, "would an impostor call on you, chief?"

Mason's laugh was grim and mirthless. "Because the district attorney might figure I was going to try and put the screws on the old man," he said. "So the D.A. figured he'd run in a ringer and see what I did about it."

"Oh, please," Della pleaded, "do be careful, chief!"

"That would mean," the detective remarked thoughtfully, "that the man's out of the D.A.'s office; and that would mean the D.A. was having Rhoda shadowed before the murder. Perry, you'd better find out all about this guy before you open up on him."

Mason indicated the door. "Okay, Paul. Make an artistic getaway."

The detective once more opened the door, said as though he had opened the door in the middle of a sentence, "… glad I thought of it now. It's a complication I was afraid of, but I see you have the matter in mind. Thank you very much, Counselor." The door slammed.

Della Street 's eyes pleaded with Perry Mason. The lawyer motioned her toward the door. "We can't have any delay now, Della," he said, "or he'll be suspicious. He probably remembered Paul Drake. He'll naturally wonder whether Paul came back to tip me off. So open the door and bring him in."

Della Street opened the door. "Mr. Mason will see you, Mr. Montaine," she said.

Montaine entered the room, bowed, smiled, and did not offer to shake hands. "Good morning, Counselor," he said.

Perry Mason, on his feet, indicated a chair. Montaine dropped into the chair. Mason sat down, and Della Street closed the door to the outer office. "Doubtless," Montaine said, "you know why I am here."

Mason spoke with disarming frankness. "I'm glad you are here, Mr. Montaine. I wanted to talk with you. I understood from your son, however, that you were involved in a very important financial deal. I presume you dropped everything when you heard about the murder."

"Yes, I chartered a private plane and arrived late last night."

"You've seen Carl?" Mason inquired.

There was a frosty twinkle in Montaine's eyes. "Perhaps, Counselor," he said, "it would be better if I stated my errand first and then you questioned me afterwards."

"Go ahead," Mason said bluntly.

"Let's start out by being fair and frank with each other," Montaine said. "I am a financier. The attorneys I contact are lawyers who have specialized in corporation law. They are usually men who have made fortunate investments through the judicious use of influential connections. You are the first criminal attorney I have ever met professionally.

"I know, generally, that you men are in many ways sharper than the attorneys I have done business with. You have a reputation for being less scrupulous. Whenever the respectable element wants to find a goat for the everincreasing 'crime waves' it blames the criminal attorney.

"My son consulted you. He's anxious to have his wife cleared of the charges against her. Yet, because he is a Montaine, he won't lie." Montaine paused impressively. "He is going to tell nothing more nor less than the exact truth, regardless of what the cost may be."

"You haven't told me anything yet," Mason said.

"I am laying a foundation."

"Forget the foundation. You don't need it. Get to the point."

"Very well. My son retained you to represent his wife. I know that you expect pay for your services. I know that you know my son has virtually nothing in his own name. I realize, therefore, that in the back of your mind you have fixed upon me as the source of your fee. I am not a fool, and I assume that you are not.

"I am not questioning my son's judgment. I think he selected an excellent attorney for the purpose. However, I don't want you to underestimate me. Under certain circumstances I'm willing to pay for the defense of Rhoda Montaine and to pay handsomely. Unless these conditions are met, I shall refuse to pay a red cent."

"Go on," Mason said, "you're doing the talking."

"Unfortunately," Montaine remarked, after biting at the end of his stubby white mustache for a moment, "there are some things I cannot say. The district attorney's office have advised me of certain steps they contemplate taking. I can't reveal those steps to you without violating a confidence. On the other hand, I know that you are a very shrewd individual, Mr. Mason."

"So what?" Perry Mason asked.

"So," Montaine said, "while I can't tell you what those steps are, if you should tell me that you have anticipated those steps, we might then discuss the matter frankly."

Perry Mason made drumming gestures with his fingertips. "I presume," he said, "you're referring to the fact that as long as your son and Rhoda are husband and wife, the district attorney's office can't use Carl as a witness. They will, therefore, try to get an annulment of the marriage."

A smile lit Montaine's face. "Thank you, Counselor," he said. "Thank you very much, indeed. I had hoped you might make a statement of that nature. You will understand my position in relation to that annulment action."

"You," Mason said, "feel that your son married beneath him, is that right?"

"Certainly."

"Why?"

"He married a woman who was after him only for his money; a woman whose previous life had certainly not been above reproach; a woman who continued to make clandestine appointments with the man who had been her former husband, and also with a doctor who had been intimately associated with her."

"You think that association was improper?"

"I am not saying that."

"You are implying it."

"After all, Counselor, isn't this rather beside the point? You asked me a question and I answered it fairly and frankly. Perhaps you do not agree with my feelings. Nevertheless, your question concerned my feelings, rather than facts."

"The reason I asked the question," Mason said, "was because I want to get your attitude clarified in my own mind. I take it you're anxious to have the marriage declared null and void. What you want me to do is to promise you that while I'll put up the best defense I can for Rhoda Montaine, I'll not fight the annulment action. Moreover, when it comes to the crossexamining of your son, you'll expect me to lay off making him appear too ridiculous. If I'll promise to cooperate on these things you're willing to pay me a nice fee. If I don't cooperate, you're not going to give me a dime. Is that right?"

Montaine seemed uncomfortable. "You have expressed the idea," he said cautiously, "far more bluntly than I would have dared to."

"But accurately?" Mason asked.

Montaine met his eyes. "Yes," he said, "quite accurately. You do not, of course, know the amount of the fee I am prepared to pay. It is, I think, much larger than would be considered customary. Do you understand me?"

Perry Mason clenched his right fist, pounded it slowly upon the desk, giving emphasis to his words. "I get you now. I'm even way ahead of you. You want to get rid of Rhoda Montaine. If she'll let the district attorney annul the marriage to Carl you'll be willing to give her a break on the murder case. If she insists on the legality of the marriage, you'll try to get rid of her by having her convicted of murder. Carl's a weak sister. You know it, and I know it. If Rhoda is acquitted and still remains Carl's wife she might prove troublesome. If she's willing to give Carl up, you'll give her money to defend the charges against her. If she insists on sticking to Carl, you'll throw in with the district attorney and try to get her convicted of murder. You're so damned coldblooded you don't care about anything except getting your way."