The Case of the Duplicate Daughter

Chapter Five

Perry Mason, driving his car through traffic, said, “Muriell, I’m going to have to keep my eyes pretty much on the road — do you understand?”

“Why, yes, of course, Mr. Mason.”

“But,” the lawyer said, “my ears are going to be concentrated on you, listening to your words, your tone of voice and waiting to detect any false note.”

“Why should there be a false note, Mr. Mason?”

“I don’t know,” the lawyer said. “I just want to tell you that I’ve cross-examined a lot of witnesses. My ears are trained to detect false notes. Now then, I want to know, are you acting in good faith in this thing?”

“What do you mean, Mr. Mason?”

“Were you lying to me this morning?”

“Not at all. I was telling you the absolute truth.”

“You didn’t have anything fixed up with your father that you were to call me or...?”

“Of course not, Mr. Mason. I was terribly concerned when I couldn’t find Daddy — I know that things have been bothering him the last few days and my father told me that no matter what happened he didn’t want to have anything to do with the police. I told you all that and it’s the truth.”

“Did he tell you why?”

“No, he just said that.”

“Wasn’t that rather unusual? In other words, wasn’t that an unusual thing for him to say?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And did you ask him why he said it?”

“Yes.”

“And what did he say?”

“That’s all tied in with some of the things I’m supposed to tell you. My father told me over the phone that I was to tell you everything while we were going out to get his brief case.”

“All right,” Mason said, “tell me everything.”

“Well, Daddy makes investments of his own and he also acts as an investment counsel for other people and there are some pools of money that Daddy is empowered to invest — that is, Daddy’s company. It’s a corporation. He had it incorporated so that in case he should die suddenly in an accident of some sort or anything like that, the trust funds wouldn’t be all mixed up with his estate.”

“It’s a corporation?”

“Yes. Gilman Associates Investment Pool.”

“All right. What else?”

“Roger C. Calhoun is the business manager. My father is president.”

“So what?” Mason asked.

“Well, of late Daddy has felt that Roger Calhoun is secretly trying to undermine him with some of the big investors, some of the people who put up money in the pools. You see, the corporation gets a percentage of the profits it makes. It’s rather a small percentage but where the investments are big it amounts to quite a sum of money.”

“Is your father in danger of losing control of the corporation?”

“No, no, nothing like that. He wouldn’t lose control of the corporation. He has that all tied up. But he might lose the investors. That is, some of the big ones.”

“And just who are the big ones?”

“Oh, heavens, I don’t know all the names, but there are lots of big ones. There’s a big lumberman up in the northern part of the state who lets Daddy handle nearly all of his investments and there’s a widow down in the Imperial Valley who has more than half a million dollars Daddy is managing, and... well, there are just lots of people.”

“Tell me a little more about Calhoun,” Mason said.

“Well, he’s young — that is, Daddy always calls him young. I think he’s old — that is, he’s much older than I am.”

“How old is he?”

“Thirty-four, I think. But he’s a very bright man. He makes a study of the market and... well, he’s really bright.”

Mason said abruptly, “Is your father counting calories?”

“In a way, yes, but what in the world—?”

Mason interrupted. “After a breakfast that was loaded with calories, he sent you back to the kitchen to cook up still another egg and some more sausage... He did, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Wasn’t that rather a peculiar thing for him to do?”

“When you think about the calories, I guess it was.”

“I’m just trying to get the picture straight,” Mason said. “Now go on and tell me some more about Calhoun.”

“Well, there were some agreements that had to be signed this morning. They were to be signed by the corporation. They were in Daddy’s brief case and Mr. Calhoun is naturally very much upset because they weren’t in the office and he didn’t know where Daddy was.”

“You went up to the office?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you call on the telephone?”

“Oh, but I did call on the telephone and asked to have Daddy call me as soon as he came in. And Mr. Calhoun’s secretary got on the line and said that I was to have Daddy call them just as soon as I got in touch with him. She wanted to know where he was and I told them... well, I played innocent, you know. I told them that, why, I had no idea if he wasn’t at the office, that I had expected he would be there.”

“You think they suspected anything?” Mason asked.

“Oh, no,” she said, “I was careful not to let them know that there was anything out of the ordinary.”

“Can you control your voice that well?”

“Oh, I think so. I was an actress in nearly all of the high-school plays and I did some work in college. They say I’m pretty darn good. I think probably I could have gone on professionally, only Daddy didn’t want me to.”

“You gave up your career for him?”

“It wasn’t a career, Mr. Mason. It might have led to a career, I don’t know. I guess every girl gets sort of stage-struck at one time or another if she has any natural aptitude, and they told me I had natural aptitude.”

“Who told you?”

“Oh, everyone — the dramatic coaches, the... I have quite a scrap-book, Mr. Mason. I know you’re altogether too busy to read it but I’m inordinately proud of it. I’ve got some really rave notices.”

“Now, when you went to the office,” Mason said, “why did you go there? Did you think someone was holding out on you over the telephone?”

“No. I wanted to talk with Tillie.”

“That’s your father’s secretary?”

“Yes. Tillie Norman.”

“Did you talk with her at that time?”

“No, she wasn’t there. But she called up while I was there and told the switchboard operator that she wouldn’t be in for about half an hour. She’d gone out on a coffee break and... well, she’s Daddy’s personal secretary and when he isn’t there, there isn’t much for her to do. So she did a little shopping and called the operator to find out if Daddy was in and to tell her she would be out for a while longer if Daddy wasn’t there.”

“And the operator told her you were there?”

“Yes.”

“So then what happened?”

“Well, I told the operator as soon as I heard her mention Tillie’s name that I wanted to speak with her — the operator knew I was looking for Tillie.”

“So what did you do?”

“I told Tillie that I was anxious to get in touch with Daddy, and she said that she was, too; that he hadn’t been in all day.”

“So then what?”

“Well, Tillie asked me if anything was wrong and I was a little guarded. I told her no, nothing in particular, but that I was very anxious to get in touch with him.”

“Then what happened?”

“Well, Tillie said that she would come right up to the office and if I’d wait there that she’d postpone her shopping trip and talk with me.”

“So you waited?”

“Yes.”

“And then what?”

“Well, Tillie came in and it was a good thing she did, for shortly after-ward Daddy called and asked for Tillie to give her some confidential instructions and Tillie told him I was there; and Daddy said, ‘Oh, good,’ that he had been trying to reach me at the house and told Tillie to put me on the phone without letting anyone know he was calling.”

“And then what?”

“Then Daddy told me that I was to go to your office, to get you and take you out to the house and give you his brief case, that you were to take the entire brief case and keep it in your office until he sent for it, that you were to take the agreements that were in the green Bristol-board folder out of the brief case and deliver those agreements to Mr. Calhoun.

“And Daddy told me that I was to talk with you going out and tell you absolutely everything that I knew about Daddy and the business and the background and about Mr. Calhoun and everything.”

“Anything about your stepmother?” Mason asked.

“No, he didn’t mention her name. Why? Is there anything about her?”

“I’m just trying to get your father’s instructions,” Mason said.

“Well, that’s the whole story, Mr. Mason, as nearly as I can tell you. Of course, there are lots of little things; if you’ll ask me questions I’ll try to answer them.”

Mason said, “Well, let me think this over for a while.”

He drove the automobile for some ten minutes in thoughtful silence. Then, just before they turned into Vauxman Avenue, Mason said, “Just a minute, I have one phone call to make.”

The lawyer stopped the car in front of a telephone booth at the curb by a service station, got out and called his office. “Let me talk with Della, Gertie,” he said when he had the office on the line.

Della Street’s voice, cool and competent, came over the wire. “Yes, Chief, what is it? I have a notebook and pencil here.”

Mason said, “It’s rather simple, Della. Call up the office of Gilman Associates Investment Pool in the Piedmont Building. Ask to talk to Mr. Gilman personally. Tell him you’re a widow with some funds to invest and you’d like to know something about their investment service.”

“Then what?” Della Street asked.

“Gilman won’t be in,” Mason said, “so then ask if there’s anyone who can tell you about making an appointment with Mr. Gilman. Ask if he has a secretary there.”

“And then?” Della asked.

“You have a good ear for voices,” Mason said. “When you get Mr. Gilman’s secretary on the line, get her name, find out who is talking. If it’s Miss Norman, give her a fictitious name and address, then go on and give her a song and dance about having some funds to invest and ask the secretary to describe the investment service.”

“And then what?”

“Then tell her you’ll think it over and hang up,” Mason said.

“Just what is it you want to know?” she asked.

“I want to know what Gilman’s secretary’s voice sounds like over the telephone.”

“So I can remember it again?”

“I think you’ll remember it as soon as you hear it,” Mason said. “Unless I’m chasing something up a blind alley, you’ll find that the voice of Matilda Norman, Carter Gilman’s private secretary, is the voice that assured us over the telephone she was Vera Martel, the detective.”

“Oh-oh,” Della Street said. “In other words, you’ve smoked something out?”

“There’s a lot of smoke,” Mason said. “I don’t know where the fire is just yet and I want to be careful I don’t get my fingers burned.”

“How’s your little friend Muriell?”

“Doing fine,” Mason said. “How did she impress you?”

“She’s sweet and... well, rather demure-looking.”

“For your information,” Mason said, “she’s a very accomplished actress and she’s had quite a bit of experience.”

“All right,” Della Street said, “I make this call. Then suppose the voice is that of Vera Martel, or rather the person who assured us she was Vera Martel; what do I do?”

“Just make an appointment,” Mason said, “and hang up. And, incidentally, it might be well for you to disguise your voice a little, Della, because we may be having some further conversations with Matilda Norman.”

“When do I do it?”

“Right away.”

“And you’ll be in touch with me later?”

“That’s right. I’ll telephone in for a report.”

Mason hung up, returned to the car and smiled at Muriell. “Well, Muriell,” he said, “I guess you’ll have to forgive a rough, tough trial lawyer for being a little suspicious. After all, the events of the day have been just a little mysterious.”

“I’ll say they have,” Muriell said, looking at him with wide brown eyes which radiated innocence, candor, and a certain concern.

“Now,” Mason said, “if your father should come home tonight it would be advisable if you just talked with him normally and naturally and didn’t tell him anything about my making that trip out to the house this morning or about you getting alarmed at his absence and calling me. Do you think you can do that?”

“Would it be for Daddy’s best interests?”

“I’m quite certain it would be for his best interests,” Mason said.

“In that case, I can do it.”

“And get away with it?”

“Oh, sure,” Muriell said. “If I don’t want people to find out anything they don’t find it out, that’s all.”

“All right,” Mason said, suppressing a smile, “let’s just keep our own counsel on that, Muriell. It may help.”

“But what about that ten thousand dollars?”

Mason said, “No one except you and I knows when I got that. We’ll go out to the workshop when we get to the house and... in fact, we’ll drive right into the garage and go in the workshop from there. For your information, your father talked with me on the phone and told me to pick up the money that was on the floor in the workshop.”

“Daddy didn’t tell me anything about the money,” Muriell said.

“Probably because he didn’t have time,” Mason said. “I think it’s highly advisable that you let your father tell you just what he wants you to know and don’t ask questions, and that you don’t tell your father anything about our meeting this morning. Your father might not like the idea that you called me up just because he jumped up from the breakfast table.”

“Yes, I’ve thought of that,” she said. “Daddy might feel that I was getting a little... well, taking too much on myself.”

“Exactly,” Mason said and, turning into the driveway at the Gilman home, ran the car into the vacant garage and stopped.

“Where is everybody?” Mason asked.

“Well,” she said, “Daddy has the sedan.”

“And Nancy and Glamis?” Mason asked.

“Nancy and Glamis went to a meeting of a photographic club in the sports car and I took the club coupe uptown.”

“I see,” Mason said. “That accounts for all three cars and, because the sports car isn’t here, I take it neither your stepmother nor Glamis has returned.”

“That’s right.”

Mason said to Muriell, “I’ll wait in the workshop while you run in and get the brief case. Incidentally, it might be a good idea to find out if anyone is home. I’d just as soon none of the others knew that I was out here unless... well, unless it becomes necessary. We won’t try any subterfuge, but on the other hand, we won’t advertise the fact that I’m here. I think that’s the way your father would want it.”

“I’m sure he’d want it that way,” she said, opening the door to the darkroom. “Come right through the darkroom, Mr. Mason. You can wait in the workshop.”

Mason followed Muriell across the darkroom into the workshop. Muriell smiled at him and said, “I’ll get Daddy’s brief case right away. I know exactly where it is. It’s in the dining room. He had it with him ready to take to work this morning and then whatever happened when he left... Mr. Mason, why do you suppose he did leave in such a hurry?”

“Heavens, I don’t know,” Mason said. “Your father evidently has various business affairs. He has lots of irons in the fire. Something came up that demanded his attention, probably something he’d forgotten about.”

She nodded and walked over to the door at the southeast corner of the workshop, said, “I’ll be right back, Mr. Mason.”

As soon as the door closed, Mason started making a swift but detailed survey of the workshop.

The broken chair was still lying on the floor. The pool of red enamel had partially dried. The room was warm and almost unnaturally quiet, filled with the smell of seasoned wood. A big fly droned in lazy circles.

A big blob of modeling clay was on the workbench. Mason regarded the clay carefully. There were fingerprints in the clay.

Mason moved back to the darkroom. He used a handkerchief so he would leave no fingerprints on the doorknob or the light switch and switched on the lights. He opened a few of the drawers. There were pictures of Carter Gilman, pictures of Muriell, pictures of an exceptionally beautiful blond young woman. Some were portrait enlargements, some were in bathing suits and one picture of the blonde was in a daring Bikini. It had been colored and Mason paused for a moment to look appreciatively at the girl’s figure; then he replaced the photographs, looked in some of the negative files and then heard the clack of Muriell’s heels on the hardtop as she returned to the workshop.

When she entered, Mason was innocently inspecting a partially finished jewel case.

“Your father does nice work,” he said.

“Simply beautiful,” she said. “He loves to work with wood and polish it. Isn’t that a beautiful little jewel case? I think that’s to be for me on my birthday.”

“You have the brief case, I see,” Mason said.

She handed it to him without a word.

“Now I’m to keep that in my office and simply deliver the papers that are in that green Bristol-board folder to Roger Calhoun?”

“That’s right.”

“I’m not to say anything about your father’s business other than that he’s consulted me?”

“That’s right. Daddy just said you were to deliver the papers to Calhoun and tell him you were doing so at Daddy’s request and the agreements were to be executed.”

“That,” Mason said, “might provoke some comment. Your father was scheduled to be at the office with these papers. Then a lawyer whose reputation is not exactly unknown comes walking into the office and says casually, ‘I have the agreements Mr. Gilman was to bring into the office this morning.’ ”

Muriell said, “Well, I guess Daddy thought you were to use your own judgment.”

“I’ll use it,” Mason said.

Suddenly Muriell cocked her head in a position indicating she was concentrating on listening.

“What is it?” Mason asked.

“A car turned into the driveway. Just a minute.”

Muriell walked over to the Venetian blinds, separated two of the metallic leaves so that she could look through, and said, “Good heavens, it’s Glamis coming home in a taxi!”

Mason regarded Muriell’s distressed countenance. “You don’t want her to know anything about this?”

“Heavens, no.”

“Doesn’t your father trust her?”

“I guess so, but... well, I just don’t want her to know, that’s all.”

“So what do you do?” Mason asked.

“I try to divert her,” she said. “But I don’t think it can be done. If she ever sees your car in the garage she’ll start looking around and, of course, if we aren’t in the house she’ll come out here... It may be better for me to just go out and talk with her and... But if she sees me coming out of the workshop she’ll wonder what I’m doing here, and if she finds you here... Oh, dear.”

Mason studied Muriell thoughtfully. “You don’t think she’ll go right into the house and...?”

“Let’s hope so. She forgot to pay the cab... That’s just like her... Now she’s turning back to pay the cabby and... Oh-oh, she’s seen your car! I’ll go out and try to head her off. I doubt if I can do it. She’s terribly curious. If I can’t stall her, don’t tell her anything. Understand? Not anything.”

Muriell opened the door of the workshop and walked, in a manner which she tried to make casual, down toward the taxicab.

Mason, parting the Venetian blinds to watch what was happening, saw the long-legged blonde whose picture he had seen in the darkroom smile vivaciously at Muriell and walk forward to put an arm around her.

Muriell exerted a gentle pressure toward the house and Glamis seemed to hold back slightly, asking questions.

Mason moved over to the telephone on the workbench, raised the instrument to his ear, caught the receiving tone and rapidly dialed the number of Paul Drake’s office.

When he had the detective on the line, Mason said, “Paul, I’ll have to give this to you quick and I can only give it to you once. I’m going to drive into my parking lot probably within the next twenty to thirty minutes. There’ll be a young woman with me. I want you to have someone pick up that young woman’s trail and tail her no matter where she goes.”

“Have a heart, Perry,” Drake said. “That’s awfully short notice to get...”

“Do it yourself,” Mason said, “if you can’t get someone. I want it done. I think someone’s giving me a runaround.”

Mason hung up the phone and, again parting the slats on the Venetian blinds, saw that the two girls were still talking.

Mason dialed the number of his office. When Gertie answered the phone, he said, “Get me Della on the line quick, Gertie.”

The lawyer heard the sound of voices outside. “Quick, Della,” he said. “Did you get that call through?”

“I did,” Della Street said, “and while her normal voice is much slower and not so high-pitched, the woman who is Carter Gilman’s secretary is very definitely the same woman who called us and said she was Vera M. Martel.”

Mason saw the doorknob of the door start to turn and abruptly dropped the telephone back into position and was idly inspecting one of the machines as Muriell Gilman said, “Mr. Mason, I want you to meet Glamis Barlow. Glamis, may I present Mr. Mason?”

Mason caught the full impact of the wide blue, curious yet audacious eyes.

Glamis came toward him with hand outstretched, her manner as seductive as an expert striptease artist walking out on the stage. “Why, how do you do?” she said. “Muriell told me she was here with a friend who was interested in woodworking.”

Mason made no comment about Muriell’s statement. He took Glamis’ hand in his own, bowed and said, “It’s a very great pleasure, Miss Barlow.”

Glamis turned to Muriell. “Where’s the other car, Muriell? I came to pick it up. I have to have it.”

“Oh, good heavens, it’s uptown,” Muriell said. “I left it parked up there.”

“You left it parked up there?”

“I accepted a ride out with Mr. Mason,” she said.

Glamis frowned for a moment, then said, “How did you intend to get it?”

“Mr. Mason was going to drive me back uptown. I’ll get it and bring it out here, Glamis.”

“Then where are you going?”

“No place. I’m going to stay here. Mr. Mason is ready to leave and I’ll go with him and—”

“There isn’t time,” Glamis said. “I’m sorry, Muriell, but I have to have the car right away. I’ll ride up with Mr. Mason — just give me the parking ticket... that is, I will if Mr. Mason has no objections.”

Muriell hesitated.

Mason bowed and said, “Perhaps you can both come with me.”

“No,” Glamis said imperiously. “Muriell wants to be home. If she got the car she’d just drive it back. I have places to go.”

Muriell said reluctantly, “Well, I guess that’s probably the only thing to do then... You’re ready to start, Mr. Mason?”

“Right away,” Mason said.

“I saw your car in the garage,” Glamis said. “I thought at first it was our other car, but then I realized it was a strange car. I asked Muriell who was here... You’re going right away, Mr. Mason?”

Muriell said, in a voice that was far from happy, “He’ll have to leave right away. He has an important appointment.”

“All right,” Glamis said, “let’s go.”

She looked around the workshop, said, “Well, for heaven’s sake, somebody’s spilled something on the floor and look at that chair.”

“It must have been tipped over,” Muriell said.

“Heavens, Muriell, it’s broken!”

“Well,” Muriell said, “if you’re in a hurry to get uptown, Glamis—”

“I am,” Glamis interrupted. “And Mr. Mason is, also. Toodle-oo, Muriell. We’ll be seeing you. Come on, Mr. Mason. I’m going to hurry you as much as I can because I really want the car, and Nancy took my sports car to go out on location with her photographic club, so I had to come home in a cab. I thought there’d at least be one car here.”

“I’m sorry,” Muriell said.

“What is there to be sorry about, honey? You’re entitled to the car when you want it just as much as anyone... I’m a little afraid I’m imposing on Mr. Mason, but... I am going to hurry you, Mr. Mason.”

She inserted her hand in Mason’s arm.

Mason picked up the brief case and started walking toward the car.

“Now,” Glamis said, “if you’re going to be polite and make this a social occasion, Mr. Mason, you’ll escort me to the right-hand side of the car and open the door and I’ll flash you a smile of thanks and try to reward you by giving you a quick glimpse of what I’ve been told is a very good-looking leg.

“If, on the other hand, this is strictly business...”

“Let’s make it a social occasion, by all means,” Mason said.

He waved to Muriell, walked around to the right-hand side of his car with Glamis and held the door open for her.

Glamis jumped in the car, smiled at him, then adjusted her skirt revealingly.

“Thank you, Mr. Mason.”

“Not at all,” the lawyer said. “The reward was ample.”

Mason walked around to the other side of the car, tossed the brief case in the back and climbed in behind the steering wheel.

Glamis, looking straight ahead, said, “You have a brief case that’s exactly like Dad Gilman’s.”

“I guess all brief cases are pretty much alike,” Mason said casually as he started the car and backed down the driveway.

Glamis said, “I’m afraid Muriell’s been holding out on me, Mr. Mason. She hasn’t told me anything about you. Have you known her long?”

“It depends on what you mean by long,” Mason said. “Time is relative.”

“Indeed it is... So you’re interested in woodworking?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a shop of your own?”

“I’m thinking of installing one.”

“I’m quite sure Muriell has never mentioned you,” Glamis said.

Mason said nothing.

“Somehow you’re not the type that one associates with afternoons of dillydallying.”

“I was neither dillying nor dallying,” Mason said.

“My, you have a very adroit method of being evasive, Mr. Mason. Did it ever occur to you that I’m pumping you for information?”

“Are you?”

“Certainly I am. I want to know more about you. I want to know what makes you tick. Muriell isn’t the playgirl type and you’re... there’s something purposeful about you, something substantial. You’re not a playboy. You have some objective in life and you’ve come very close to achieving that objective — whatever you do, you’re tops.”

“Character analysis?” Mason asked.

She was studying him frankly as Mason drove through traffic.

“Character analysis,” she said. “I like it. Sometimes I’m rather good at it. You’re not a doctor... and you’re not exactly the banker type. You’re a professional man of some sort.”

“Well,” Mason said, “since you derive so much pleasure from speculating about my occupation and character it would be a shame to deprive you of that pleasure by telling you anything.”

“You’re being delightfully evasive, Mr. Mason,” she said. And then added after a moment, “And it isn’t going to do you a particle of good because when I get out I’m going to look at the license number on your automobile and then I’m going to trace the ownership and find out just who you are.

“You’re some sort of a professional... Oh, good heavens, of course! You’re a lawyer.”

Mason said nothing.

“Mason. Mason,” Glamis went on. “Well, bless my soul! You’re Perry Mason!”

Mason simply kept on driving.

“And you don’t give me the slightest credit for putting two and two together,” Glamis went on. “You are acting very, very mysteriously, Mr. Mason. Now why in the world would you be out there, calling on Muriell of all people! And then when I catch you calling on Muriell, why should you be so evasive?... And that is Dad’s brief case you’re carrying, isn’t it?”

Mason said, “As an attorney I would object to the question on the ground that it called for several answers.”

“All different?”

“I don’t think it’s necessary to specify that in making an objection based on those grounds,” Mason said.

Glamis inched up closer to him on the seat, put her left arm over the back of the seat so that the hand was touching Mason’s right shoulder. She squirmed around, drawing her legs up in under her, then glanced down at her skirt and said, “I suppose I should be a little more modest — in the interest of safe driving,” and pulled the skirt down.

For several seconds she studied the lawyer’s granite-hard profile frankly and with a curiosity she made no attempt to conceal.

“Now, what in the world would you be doing out in Dad’s workshop?” she asked.

“Perhaps,” Mason said, “I gave you a true answer when I said I was interested in woodworking.”

“And you didn’t get in touch with Dad Gilman about it, you got in touch with Muriell. I’m quite certain Muriell hasn’t known you more than twenty-four hours... if Muriell had known you, we’d have learned about it. Not that Muriell’s a name-dropper, you understand, Mr. Mason, but she’d certainly have managed some way to have brought it into the conversation... ‘As my friend, Mr. Perry Mason, the noted lawyer, said on occasion...’ ”

Glamis shook her head. “You’re being very, very difficult, Mr. Mason. I see that I’m going to have to do some intensive research.”

“Aren’t you doing it now?”

“Heavens, no! I’m just hitting the high spots. I’m watching your face and noticing the very slight but very definite expression of irritation which comes around the corners of your eyes. Has anybody ever told you that you squint your eyes just the least little bit at the corners when you’re being irritated, Mr. Mason?”

“I wasn’t aware of it,” Mason said.

They drove for a long while in silence, Glamis studying the lawyer.

Glamis laughed and said, “I didn’t mean to irritate you, Mr. Mason. Now that I’ve smoked you out I think perhaps we should improve the opportunity to get acquainted personally and socially, and not let me pry into business matters which I’m quite certain you feel are no concern of mine.

“I wonder if you play golf... no, I don’t suppose you have time. You’re one of these tremendously busy people. You have all that drive and... well, there’s an aura of success about you. Really, I’m rather proud of myself. You remember I said before I knew who you were that you’d be at the top of your profession.”

Mason grinned. “I would say you were pretty good at character analysis and at flattery.”

“I’m a splendid little prober,” Glamis said. “I like to inquire into things. I like to listen to what people say and occasionally, when they make a slip, I look at them with an expression of most cherubic innocence.

“You know, it’s wonderful to be young and able to look unsophisticated, Mr. Mason. I suppose a few years more and I won’t be able to get away with it... Still, you can’t tell. If the expression of cherubic innocence has persisted so far in spite of my checkered career... Well, I guess we won’t go into that. I’ll be evasive myself.”

“You make yourself sound delightfully mysterious,” Mason said. “I know you’re besieged by admirers, yet apparently you haven’t said yes to anyone because there’s no diamond on your left hand.”

“Well, aren’t you observing,” she said. “For your information, Mr. Mason, the monosyllabic affirmative doesn’t necessarily mean a diamond, in this day and age.”

“That,” Mason said, “has all the elements of being a cryptic wise-crack.”

“How adroitly you’ve managed to shift the subject of conversation from you to me, Mr. Mason. And now I perceive by a slightly relaxed expression at the corner of your eyes that you’re very much at ease, which means, I take it, that we’re approaching your office building where you park your car... I’d better look at the parking ticket Muriell gave me and see... That’s right, your parking lot is right ahead on the left... That’s the parking lot I usually use when I run into Dad Gilman’s office to do errands. His office is in the Piedmont Building.”

“My office is in this building right here,” Mason said, as he turned into the parking lot.

“And, as a regular tenant, you have a duly assigned parking space, I see,” she said, as Mason turned into the parking space.

“Exactly,” Mason said.

She said, “If you’d walk around to the right-hand side of the car and let me out, Mr. Mason, I’d reward you again. But, after all, I’m in a terrific hurry and I know you want to get rid of me as soon as possible. It was nice seeing you and I hope I see you again.

“ ’Bye, now.”

She opened the door on the right-hand side of the car, jumped to the ground and hurried over to the parking attendant, holding out her parking ticket.

Mason sat for a moment in the car, then looked around for Paul Drake but was unable to spot him.

The lawyer retrieved the brief case from the car.

One of the parking attendants brought up the club coupe. Glamis Barlow flung open the door and jumped inside, slammed the door shut with one motion and swept the car into speed.

As she drove out of the parking lot Mason saw Paul Drake, driving his nondescript agency car, come from a stall on the other side and swing in behind her.

The lawyer tried to catch Drake’s eye in order to flash him a signal but was unable to do so. After a moment he turned, walked to the sidewalk, then turned sharply to the left and walked to the Piedmont Building.