The Case of the Lucky Legs

Chapter 18

Perry Mason caught Johnson by the shoulder as Johnson slipped handcuffs on Marjorie Clune's wrists.

"You don't need to do that, you big heel," he said.

Johnson whirled, his eyes glittering with hatred.

"Just because you're a lawyer," he said, "you think you can do anything you damn please. You said we couldn't arrest you before and, by God, you were right. We knew we couldn't. We didn't have enough on you. But the situation has changed since then. We can arrest you now all right."

"Will you listen to me for a moment?" Perry Mason said.

"Oh, you want to talk now, do you?" Riker commented. "The situation is a little bit different now. You're anxious to talk, huh?"

Della Street entered Perry Mason's private office, waited until she caught his eye.

"Police headquarters," she said.

"Tell Detective Sergeant O'Malley that if he can get to my office inside of ten minutes, I'll give him some inside dope on the Patton murder case," Mason said.

Della Street nodded.

"He won't be here ten minutes from now," Johnson said. "You tell O'Malley to wait at headquarters."

Della Street paid no attention to him, but returned to the outer office.

J.R. Bradbury, his face wearing a smile of cold triumph pulled a cigar from his pocket, clipped off the end, and lit it.

"This man," Perry Mason said, indicating Bradbury, "is the one who retained me to represent Marjorie Clune. He is the one who told me to beat it out ahead of the police and get her out of trouble."

"I did nothing of the sort," Bradbury said.

"He is the one who told me to represent Dr. Robert Doray."

"I did nothing of the sort," Bradbury repeated.

"What the hell do we care what either one of you did?" Riker said. "We've got you, and we've got this broad. She's wanted for murder. You knew she was wanted for murder. It's been in the newspapers. You had her in your office, and you were concealing her. That makes you an accessory after the fact. It's a felony, and we don't need any warrant to arrest you. We've got the proof on you. It's a felony that was actually committed in our presence, as far as that's concerned, although in a felony case it doesn't make any difference."

"If you'll listen to me," Perry Mason said, "I'll explain the entire situation to you."

"You can tell it to the judge," Johnson said. "I've chased around after you just as long as I'm going to, Perry Mason. You've been giving us the merry ha, ha and the runaround for a long time. Now you're going with us. Put the bracelets on him, Riker."

Perry Mason stared steadily at the two detectives.

"I want to talk," he said.

"I don't give a damn what you want to do," Johnson told him.

"When we get to police headquarters," Perry Mason said, "they will ask me what I have to say. I will tell them that I was on the verge of making a complete confession; that you two dumb dicks wouldn't let me talk; that now the prosecution can go to hell and try to prove me guilty."

Johnson turned to Riker.

"Lock that door," he said. "If the man wants to confess that's different.

"You want to confess?" he asked.

"Yes," said Mason.

"To what?"

"To things that I shall outline in my confession."

Riker opened the door to Perry Mason's outer office.

"You," he said to Della Street, "come in here and take down what this guy says in shorthand."

"It's his own stenographer," Johnson objected.

"That's all right. She'll take it down if he tells her to," Riker said. "And, if he doesn't tell her to take it down, he won't do any talking."

Mason laughed.

"Don't think you boys are going to bluff me," he said, "but as it happens, I want it taken down. Della, you will please take down every word that is said in this room. I want a complete transcript of what is said, and who says it."

"Go on," Johnson remarked, his lip curling slightly. "Start your speech."

"When I first came into contact with this case," Mason said, "I was employed by J.R. Bradbury, the gentleman standing there. He had been to the district attorney's office. They couldn't help him. He wanted me to find Frank Patton and to prosecute him. At my suggestion, he employed Paul Drake, and Drake's Detective Bureau to find Patton."

"This doesn't sound like a confession," Riker said.

Perry Mason fixed him with a cold eye.

"Do you want to listen, or do you want me to keep quiet?" he said.

"Let him go ahead, Riker," Johnson commented.

"I want it understood I am not bound by anything this man says," Bradbury stated.

"Shut up," Johnson told him.

"I won't shut up until I have expressed myself," Bradbury replied. "I know what my rights are."

Riker reached out and caught Bradbury by the knot of the necktie.

"Listen, you," he said, "we're sticking around here to hear a guy confess, not to hear your solo. Sit down and shut up."

He pushed Bradbury back, and into a chair, then turned to Mason.

"Go ahead," he said, "you wanted to talk. Start talking."

"Bradbury came to my office," Perry Mason said. "Before that I had received a telegram signed Eva Lamont. Bradbury said he had sent that telegram. The telegram asked me to hold myself in readiness to act in a certain case involving Marjorie Clune. Bradbury outlined that case. Marjorie Clune had been victimized by Frank Patton. He wanted me to find and prosecute Frank Patton. Through Drake, I located Patton. In locating Patton, we had occasion to interview a young woman named Thelma Bell who lives at the St. James Apartments on East Faulkner Street. Her telephone number was Harcourt 63891. I have always had an uncanny memory for telephone numbers.

"On the evening that Drake located Frank Patton, I was sitting in my office awaiting a telephone call from Drake. We were going out together and try to shake a confession out of Patton. Bradbury came to my office. I told him to wait. I put him in the outer office. Drake's call came through. I told Drake I would meet him. I grabbed a cab and went down to meet Drake. In the meantime, I sent Bradbury back to the hotel to get some newspapers. He is staying at the Mapleton Hotel. He anticipated it would take him half an hour to make the round trip in a taxicab. That's about right. It would have taken just about that time."

"Are you going," asked Bradbury, in a cold, accusing tone, "to confess about entering Patton's apartment in advance of the officers and locking the door behind you as you went out?"

Johnson turned to Bradbury.

"What do you know about that?" he asked.

"I know that's what he did," Bradbury said.

"How do you know?"

"Because," Bradbury remarked with a triumphant leer at Perry Mason, "this man telephoned me here at his office not much after nine o'clock and told me the details of the murder. He told me how the murder had been committed. Even the police didn't know it at that time. I told him to do what he could to protect Marjorie Clune. I referred, of course, to purely legal methods."

Johnson and Riker exchanged glances.

"Was that the telephone call that Perry Mason put through from the drug store?" asked Riker. "We've traced his taxicab from here to Ninth and Olive, from Ninth and Olive out to Patton's apartment, from Patton's apartment down to a drug store where he telephoned, and from the drug store out to the St. James Apartments."

"I was the one he talked to on the telephone," said J.R. Bradbury. "I want to have it definitely understood that I have made this statement before witnesses, and just as soon as I had any knowledge that the things Mason did were at all illegal. I am not going to be involved in any technical illegality."

Riker looked at Della Street.

"You got that down?" he asked.

"Yes," Della Street said.

"Go ahead," Johnson said to Bradbury.

"Let him go ahead," Bradbury remarked, nodding to Mason.

"I went to Patton's apartment," Mason said. "I knocked at the door. No one answered. I opened the door and walked in. The door was unlocked. I found Patton's body. He had been stabbed. I found a blackjack lying in a corner of the livingroom. I started out and heard a police officer coming down the corridor. I didn't want to be seen leaving the apartment, and I didn't want to be seen standing there by the open door. I had a skeleton key in my pocket, and I locked the door and pounded on the panel. I told the officer I had just arrived and was knocking to try and effect my entrance."

Perry Mason stopped talking. There was a silence in the office which enabled those present to hear the scratching of Della Street 's pen on the shorthand notebook, to hear the sobbing intake of her breath.

"You're a hell of a lawyer," said Riker scornfully. "That confession, and Bradbury's corroboration, will put you in jail for the rest of your life."

"On the table," said Perry Mason, without noticing the comment, "in Patton's apartment, were two telephone messages. One of them was to tell Thelma that Marjorie would be late for her appointment. The other one was to call Margy at Harcourt 63891. I saw those two telephone messages. I remembered the telephone number of Thelma Bell. As I mentioned, I have a photographic memory for such things. I surmised at once that Marjorie Clune could be found at Thelma Bell's apartment. I telephoned Bradbury and asked him for instructions. He told me to protect Marjorie Clune regardless of what I had to do, or what means I had to employ."

"That's a lie," Bradbury said. "I employed you as a lawyer. I didn't expect you to do anything illegal. I'm not a party to it."

"Let it pass," said Johnson, "go ahead, Mason."

"I went out to Thelma Bell's apartment," Mason said. "I found Marjorie Clune there. I found her taking a bath. Thelma Bell had just had a bath. Thelma Bell told me that she had an appointment with Frank Patton but hadn't kept it. That she had been out with a boy friend. I telephoned the boy friend for verification. He verified her statement.

"I told Marjorie Clune to go to a hotel; to register under her name, to call my office and let me know where she was, and not to leave the hotel. She promised me that she would. She subsequently telephoned my office that she was at the Bostwick Hotel, in room 408. The telephone number was Exeter 93821. I returned to Bradbury. I told him what had happened, except that I did not tell him about entering Patton's apartment, or locking the door. Bradbury told me I was to represent Dr. Doray as well as Marjorie Clune. I agreed to such representation.

"I met Bradbury at his hotel because he didn't want to remain at the office. He had returned to the office with the newspapers he had been sent to get from the Mapleton Hotel. His return was just about the time that I telephoned. I believe he had just entered the office when I telephoned him from the drug store near Patton's apartment."

"There was also a brief case," Bradbury said.

"Yes," Mason said, "you telephoned Della Street and asked her if you should bring the brief case. She told you it might be a good plan to bring it as well."

"I telephoned from my room in the hotel," Bradbury explained to the officers.

"Subsequently," Mason said, "I telephoned Marjorie Clune. She had left the hotel. Detectives got in touch with Della Street and accused her of telephoning Dr. Doray to get out of the country. As a matter of fact, Della Street did not telephone to him."

"That's what you say," Bradbury commented.

"Shut up, Bradbury," Riker said.

"I learned," Mason went on, "that Marjorie Clune had intended to take the midnight plane. I chartered a plane and followed the schedule of the midnight mail plane. At its first stop in Summerville, I found that Dr. Doray had disembarked. I went to the Riverview Hotel and found Dr. Doray registered in the bridal suite. At first he disclaimed all knowledge of Marjorie Clune, but while we were talking, Marjorie Clune entered the room. She had missed the plane, and had taken the train. Officers showed up at about that time to arrest them. I spirited Marjorie Clune out of the hotel, and brought her back to this city."

"You did," said Riker.

"I did," Mason said.

"And the damn fool admits it," Johnson commented.

Perry Mason stared at them with cold, scornful eyes.

"If you gentlemen are interested in my confession," he said, "and will keep your mouths shut, I will finish it."

"Cut out the wisecracks and go ahead," Johnson told him.

Perry Mason stared at Johnson steadily; then turned so that he faced Della Street.

Bradbury spoke up.

"If you two men will use your heads," he said, "you'll understand that the question of that locked door is going to be of vital importance in the case. If the door was unlocked, it's almost a certainty that Robert Doray killed Frank Patton. If the door was locked, it means that Frank Patton was killed by —"

"You can keep all that stuff to yourself," Johnson said. "You're going to get a chance to talk before we get done with this thing. You've played button, button, who's got the button, with the law yourself. It seems to me you've been trying to blackmail Perry Mason with the information that you have. Don't think you can pull that kind of stuff and get away with it."

"You can't talk that way to me," Bradbury said, jumping from his chair.

"Set him down, Riker," said Johnson.

Riker grabbed Bradbury by the necktie once more, and slammed him back into the chair.

"Sit down," he said, "and shut up."

There was an imperative banging on the outer door.

"That," said Perry Mason, "will be Detective Sergeant O'Malley."

Johnson fidgeted slightly, said to Riker, "Let him in, Riker."

Riker opened the door. A rather short, paunchy individual, with a round, cherubic face, light eyes that seemed utterly devoid of expression, walked with quick, springy steps through the door and across to Perry Mason's private office. He faced the little group of people.

"Hello, O'Malley," said Perry Mason.

"What you got here?" asked O'Malley.

"This woman is Marjorie Clune, who's wanted for murder," Johnson said hastily. "Perry Mason was hiding her in his office. He's spiriting her around the country."

O'Malley's eyes went swiftly to Marjorie Clune; then to Perry Mason; then to Johnson.

"When Mason does anything," he said to Johnson, "he usually knows what he's doing. Do you have to have the handcuffs on the woman?"

"It's a murder rap," said Johnson, "and Perry Mason is making a confession."

"A what?" asked O'Malley.

"A confession."

"Confessing to what?" asked O'Malley.

"Confessing to the fact that he got into Patton's apartment, found Patton dead, ducked out and locked the door before the police came, and then lied about locking the door."

O'Malley looked at Perry Mason with a puzzled frown on his forehead. Then he looked over to Della Street.

"You taking this down, Della?" he asked.

She nodded.

O'Malley looked once more to Mason.

"What's the idea, Perry?" he asked.

"I am trying to make a confession," said Perry Mason, "but I am being constantly interrupted."

"You mean to say you're making a written confession to a felony and having your own secretary take it down in shorthand?" asked O'Malley, his voice showing puzzled incredulity.

"When I have finished," Mason said, "if I am allowed to finish, the confession will speak for itself."

O'Malley turned to Bradbury.

"Who's that guy?" he asked.

"J.R. Bradbury," Mason said; "he employed me to represent Doray and Marjorie Clune. He's putting up the money."

"Go ahead and finish your confession," O'Malley said to Perry Mason.

"I want to explain my connection with —" Bradbury began.

O'Malley turned to him.

"Shut up," he said.

Perry Mason resumed his comments.

"Obviously," he said, "Frank Patton was killed with a knife. The blackjack didn't enter into it at all. Obviously, however, the murderer had thrown the blackjack into the corner after the murder. After I talked with Marjorie Clune, I learned from her that Dr. Doray had driven her to a place near Patton's apartment. Doray had purchased the knife. He had made threats against Patton. He intended to kill Patton. For that reason, Marjorie Clune wouldn't tell him where Patton was. She went to a candy store, stalling for time; went to the woman's restroom and sent word out to Doray that she'd slipped out through the back way. She hadn't. She was hiding in the restroom. Five minutes after Doray left the place, she went out and went to Patton's apartment. She says that she found him dead. I met her leaving the apartment house.

"I went to Thelma Bell's place, and got her to skip out. I bought her a ticket to College City. She went there and registered at a hotel.

"I made a stall to get back to Thelma Bell's apartment. I searched the place. I found a hat box, and in it were white shoes, stockings, and a dress. All of them had been covered with blood. They had been washed hastily. The white shoes belonged to Marjorie Clune. The other things belonged to Thelma Bell. I checked the hat box to College City and held the check. Then I gave the ticket to Thelma Bell so that she traveled on the ticket that was used to check the hat box."

Perry Mason fumbled in his waistcoat pocket, pulled out a numbered slip of pasteboard, and handed it to Detective Sergeant O'Malley.

"That," he said, "is the check for the hat box."

"Just the shoes belonged to Marjorie Clune?" asked O'Malley.

"Just the shoes," Mason said.

"That's what she said," O'Malley said.

"That's what I say," Mason said.

"You're a hell of a lawyer," Bradbury said; "you're betraying the confidences of your client. You're divulging privileged communications. You're —"

"If he won't shut up," said O'Malley to Riker, "you can shut him up."

Riker moved over toward Bradbury's chair.

"Nothing wrong with your hearing, is there, buddy?" he asked, doubling his right hand into a fist.

Bradbury's eyes were cold and scornful.

"Don't think you frighten me a damn bit," he said.

Mason continued talking and by his talk prevented the situation from centering about Bradbury and Riker.

"I made a further check of Thelma Bell's alibi," Perry Mason said, "and found there was nothing to it. I'm convinced that the alibi had been framed, and not too cleverly framed at that. It was an amateurish alibi—one that had been hastily concocted. Thelma Bell was taking a bath when Marjorie Clune returned to the apartment. It is obvious to me that she was taking a bath to wash off the bloodstains."

There was a moment of silence.

"You mean Thelma Bell killed him?" asked O'Malley.

Perry Mason made a gesture for O'Malley to remain silent.

"When Bradbury came to my office," he said, "he didn't know where Patton was, and he didn't know where Marjorie Clune was. When I left Marjorie Clune at Thelma Bell's apartment, she intended to marry Dr. Doray. She was in love with him. When I found her in Summerville, she intended to marry Bradbury. Not that she loved Doray any the less. In fact, she was marrying Bradbury because she did love Doray. She knew that Doray was in a tough spot. He had purchased the knife. He intended to kill Patton. That knife had been used in the consummation of the murder. In her own mind, she felt certain that Dr. Doray had committed the murder. She knew that Bradbury would put up the money to retain counsel for Doray if she would agree to marry Bradbury.

"Before I saw Marjorie Clune at Summerville, however, but after she had left the Bostwick Hotel, I saw Bradbury. He ordered me to represent Dr. Doray as well as Marjorie Clune, and to get Dr. Doray acquitted. Subsequently, I called up my office to make a report. I told my secretary to get in touch with Thelma Bell and find out if Marjorie Clune had talked on the telephone before leaving Thelma Bell's apartment. Bradbury was listening in on the line. He had taken the liberty of going to my private office and manipulating the switchboard so that he was on the line. He broke in and ordered me to have Doray plead guilty, and take a life sentence.

"Now, obviously, Dr. Doray didn't have the knife in his hand when he went into the candy store with Marjorie Clune. Obviously, he didn't know where Patton's apartment was at the time. He left the candy store some five minutes before Marjorie left it. Even supposing that he could have walked to his automobile, secured the knife, gone to Patton's apartment, killed him and escaped, all within a matter of five minutes, the question remains, how did he find Patton's apartment? Marjorie Clune seems to think that he might have followed her to the apartment, but she overlooks the fact that she arrived at the apartment after the murder had been committed, not before.

"When Bradbury came to my office on the evening of the murder, he didn't know where Patton lived. He didn't know where Marjorie Clune was. Yet, after the murder, he managed to get in touch with Marjorie Clune. That is the only explanation for his instructions to represent Dr. Doray. The only reason that Marjorie Clune would have consented to marry him, and would have disobeyed my instructions to remain in the hotel in order to go to Summerville for a week of happiness with the man she loved. Marjorie Clune didn't know where Bradbury was staying. Yet some one called Marjorie Clune at Thelma Bell's apartment. It was as a result of that telephone conversation that she changed her plans. Therefore, that telephone conversation must have been with Bradbury. She has refused to tell me, but I think it is a fair inference to be drawn from all of the facts."

Perry Mason turned to Bradbury.

"Did you call her on the telephone?" he asked.

"Suppose I did?" inquired Bradbury. "What then?"

"I am simply trying to check back on the circumstances of the crime, and the reason that impelled Marjorie Clune to violate my instructions to remain at the Bostwick Hotel. I am asking you the question frankly and directly, Bradbury, and I want to warn you that if you lie, it will be taken as an indication of guilt."

"Guilt of what?" asked Bradbury.

Perry Mason shrugged his shoulders.

"You'd like to have me lie, wouldn't you?" Bradbury said.

"I don't give a damn what you do," Mason told him.

Bradbury shifted his eyes from Perry Mason to Marjorie Clune. For a long moment he gazed steadily at her. Then he said, with slow emphasis, "I see now what you're driving at, Mason. Marjorie Clune would do anything to save Doray's neck. You're clever enough to hatch up some bit of evidence like this telephone call, make a dramatic presentation of your case which will make this bit of evidence have an exaggerated importance and then, by getting Marjorie to give me the lie, make it appear I have been caught in a trap."

"When you are quite finished," Mason said coldly, "will you please answer the question. Did you or did you not call her on the telephone?"

"I did not," said Bradbury.

"I am warning you," Mason said, "that a falsehood will be taken as an indication of guilt. Did you call her or not?"

"Go ahead," Bradbury said with a sneering laugh, "pile on all the drama you want to emphasize and exaggerate the importance of this lie that Marjorie Clune is going to tell. Use all of the skill of a clever courtroom lawyer to build up a dramatic background for Marjorie Clune's perjury, and when you have entirely finished, the fact will remain that I did not call Marjorie Clune on the telephone."

"Yes," said Perry Mason slowly, "you did. Presently I am going to prove it. In the meantime, the question arises how did you know that Marjorie Clune could be reached at that telephone?"

Bradbury started to say something; then checked himself.

"I am waiting for an answer," said Mason.

"Wait and be damned," Bradbury told him.

Perry Mason turned to Detective Sergeant O'Malley.

"He knew that she could be reached at that telephone number," he said, "because he had read the memorandum which was on the table in Frank Patton's apartment. He read it when he murdered Patton."

Della Street looked up from her notebook. Marjorie Clune gave a quick gasp. O'Malley turned wary, watchful eyes upon Bradbury. Bradbury sat absolutely motionless for a whole five seconds. Then he smiled patronizingly.

"Never forgetting," he said, "that in the first place I didn't know where Frank Patton was located; that you very carefully guarded that information from me, Mason; that, furthermore, you yourself sent me to the hotel to get some newspapers. I made the round trip to the hotel in exactly thirtyfive minutes. That represents average time. I couldn't have done it in less than twentyfive minutes to have saved my life. It would have taken me at least half an hour to have gone to Patton's apartment and returned. Under the circumstances, I think you'll have to get some other method of discrediting the testimony that I have given against you, and find some less drastic means of revenge."

"You knew where Patton was located," Mason said, "because you listened in on the telephone conversation. Your ability to manipulate the switchboard shows that you could have done that. The fact that you went to Patton's apartment and read the memorandum giving Marjorie Clune's telephone number shows that you did do it. As far as the hotel alibi is concerned, just to show the premeditation and careful planning, you didn't forget the newspapers at all. You brought them with you. The brief case you also brought with you. That business of the telephone was just a little artistic touch. You telephoned from somewhere near Patton's apartment. You told Della Street you were telephoning from your hotel room. Naturally, she had no way of checking that, but when you came to this office building, you left the newspapers and the brief case in a paper package that you left with Mamie at the cigar stand.

"You carried a blackjack with you. You knew that you must rely on a weapon of silence. You knew that if you could get me to go out to Patton's apartment, thinking that you were engaged upon another errand and didn't know where Patton lived, you could murder him and get away with it. You pretended to leave the office in a leisurely manner, stopping to flirt for a moment with Della Street. When you left the office, however, you left in a hurry. You drove to a place near Patton's apartment. And then you got what you thought was a wonderful break. You saw Dr. Doray's car parked there. You discharged the taxi, got out to look at the car and found the knife in the car. You took the knife, went up to Patton's apartment, killed Patton, and started out of the apartment.

"Thelma Bell was in the bathroom having hysterics when you arrived at the apartment. The door was unlocked. You opened the door and went in. Patton was trying to get into the bathroom. He was attired in only his underwear. When he saw you, he started to put on his bathrobe. You walked to him without a word, shoved the knife into his heart. He fell to the floor. You turned and started for the door. Then you remembered your blackjack. You had no further need for it. You thought you might be searched, and you didn't want to have such a weapon in your possession. You pulled it out and flung it to the floor. You ran down the stairs of the apartment house and picked up a cab. You stopped within a block or two to telephone Della Street and tell her that you were telephoning from your room in the hotel, and asked if you should bring the brief case as well as the papers. Then you completed your journey by taxicab to the office building here, picked up the package from Mamie at the cigar stand, tore off the wrapper, took out the newspapers and the brief case, and came sauntering into the office just as I telephoned to find out if you were there, and to tell you about the murder.

"Thelma Bell heard the thud of Patton's body when it fell. She unlocked the bathroom door and went out. She bent over Patton. Some blood got on her skirt, stockings and shoes. She wasn't wearing white shoes. Therefore the stains didn't show particularly, and she was able to cover them with shoe polish. But her skirt and stockings were a mess. She cleaned herself up in the bathroom as best she could, and then went directly back to her apartment and took a bath. She went by taxicab. She had finished her bath when Marjorie Clune came in. Knowing that Marjorie had an appointment with Patton, she looked Marjorie over to see if there were any bloodstains on her clothes. She found the bloodstains on Marjorie's shoes, and made her take a bath. She didn't want Marjorie to become involved in the murder. On the other hand, she didn't want to get mixed in it herself. She had called Sanborne, her boy friend, as soon as she had reached her apartment, and had hastily fixed up an alibi with him. The reason that the alibi was so full of holes was that it had been fixed up over the telephone."

Perry Mason ceased speaking.

Bradbury sneered.

"Would it be asking too much," he said, "for you to produce some evidence other than your own maggoty conclusions?"

Perry Mason's smile was cold and frosty.

"I saw Mamie the next morning," he said; "she told me about you having left the package. She mentioned that you always wore a brown suit. I remembered then that you had been wearing a brown suit that evening at the office. Yet, when I saw you in the hotel, you wore a tweed suit. You had rushed from my office to the hotel and changed your clothes. I wonder why. I wonder if it wasn't because there was blood on your brown suit. Of course, the stains wouldn't have shown very plainly by artificial light. But they were there, and you wanted to get rid of the suit. I have an idea that you may have had some trouble disposing of this suit. I think we'll find it concealed somewhere in your room in the hotel.

"Moreover, in order to carry out your plan, you had to have Doray leave the country. You wanted to throw him in a panic. You therefore had Eva Lamont call Dr. Doray at his hotel. She told him that she was Della Street, my secretary, and that I wanted him to leave the country.

"Dr. Doray left the hotel, but kept calling back for messages. He got Marjorie's message, called her, and she agreed to meet him in Summerville."

"Who's Eva Lamont?" asked O'Malley.

"The woman," Mason said, "that occupied Bradbury's suite in the Mapleton Hotel until yesterday. Then, with Bradbury's money, and under his instructions, she went to the Monmarte Hotel, registered as Vera Cutter, and gave Paul Drake information that implicated Doray in the case earlier than would otherwise have happened.

"When I called Bradbury at my office and told him of Patton's death, he almost had a fit, registering surprise. That's the fault of an amateur. He overdoes it. Surprise becomes consternation, and consternation becomes terror.

"Returning, however, to this Eva Lamont angle. Bradbury used her to involve Doray. Naturally, the blacker the case against Doray, the more willing Marjorie Clune would be to do anything in order to bring about Doray's acquittal.

"When Bradbury, listening in over the telephone this afternoon, heard me instruct Della Street to trace any telephone call which had been received by Marjorie Clune prior to her departure from Thelma Bell's apartment, he knew that I was getting on a hot trail. So he changed his plans immediately and ordered me to have Doray plead guilty and accept a life sentence. He wanted to do that because he realized I was commencing to get a slant on what was actually happening. And he tried then to convict Doray and to get me mixed into it in order to save his own skin.

"That, gentlemen, is my confession," Perry Mason said.

He strode across the room and sat down.

Bradbury faced the accusing eyes of Detective Sergeant O'Malley.

"A pack of lies," he said, "a pack of damn lies. Let him produce one bit of proof."

"I think," said Perry Mason, "that if you will have his room in the Mapleton Hotel searched, O'Malley, you'll find that suit of clothes. I think that if you will check his fingerprints with the fingerprints on the bloody knife, you'll find that they check. And, furthermore, just to show you what a liar he is, I dropped by his hotel this afternoon and paid his hotel bill. In paying it, I secured an itemized account of the telephone numbers that he had called. I have the list here. You will see from this list that he called Harcourt 63891 on the night of the murder. That he also called Grove 36921, which was the number of Dr. Doray, in the Midwick Hotel. You will also see that he was paying the bill on a suite of rooms until this morning; that the woman who occupied the other room was Eva Lamont. If you will rush your men to the Monmarte Hotel, you will find Eva Lamont registered under the name of Vera Cutter, and Paul Drake will identify her as the woman who gave him all of the information which enabled him to tip off the police to the evidence against Dr. Doray."

Perry Mason pulled the receipted hotel bill from his pocket, and handed it to Detective Sergeant O'Malley.

Mason turned to face Bradbury.

"I warned you, Bradbury," he said, "not to lie about that telephone call to Marjorie Clune. I told you that it would be a confession of guilt."

Bradbury stared at Perry Mason. His face had gone white as a sheet.

"Damn you," he said, in a low tone vibrant with hatred.

O'Malley nodded to Riker and Johnson.

"We're going to headquarters."

He turned to Della Street.

"Would you mind getting headquarters on the telephone?" he said. "I'm going to send some men out to pick up Eva Lamont and search Bradbury's room at the Mapleton Hotel."

Perry Mason bowed to O'Malley.

"Thank you, Sergeant," he said.

He turned to Bradbury and made a sweeping gesture.

"As you have so aptly remarked, Bradbury," he said, "we understand each other perfectly. We're both fighters. We use different weapons, that's all."