Morning sun was streaming through the streets of the city when Perry Mason aroused himself from the couch in the Turkish bath. His eyes were steady and clear. He had been freshly shaven, and his face showed no trace of fatigue.
From a telephone booth in the Turkish bath, he called the Drake Detective Bureau. The desk operator answered him.
"Paul Drake there?" he asked.
"No," she said, "Mr. Drake went out about half an hour ago."
"Do you know where he went?"
"Yes, he went home to get some sleep."
"This is Mason talking," the lawyer said. "Can you tell me how long he was there last night?"
"Oh, he stayed right up until half an hour ago," the girl said. "He was waiting for a telephone call. He expected to get some important information."
"And he didn't get it?"
"No, he waited all night, and then decided he'd get some sleep. He left word for me to call him if there were any new developments in that Patton case. He's working on that for you, isn't he?"
"And others," Mason said, with a smile.
"Do you want to call him at his apartment? I'll give you the number."
"No," Mason said, "I know the number. I just wanted to find out if he was still there. I didn't have anything important."
He hung up the telephone, his face wearing a broad smile, and went to the room where he had left his clothes; dressed, secured his valuables at the desk, and looked at his watch. It was eight thirtyfive.
He returned to the telephone booth and dialed the number of his own office. Della Street 's, "Good morning, this is Perry Mason's office," sounded crisp, fresh, and businesslike.
"Don't mention any names," Perry Mason said, "but this is the Mayor of Podunk. I want to see about floating a bond issue for —"
"Oh," she said, "I'm so glad you called," and there was relief in her tone.
"What's new?" he asked.
"Lots of things."
"Can you talk?"
"Yes, there's no one here right now except Mr. Bradbury, and I put him in the law library."
"What are the things you've got to tell me?" Mason asked. "Be careful how you mention them over the telephone."
"They all have to do with Bradbury," she told him.
"What about him?"
"He wants to see you, and he wants to see you right away."
"I don't want to see him," Mason said.
"I'm not certain about that," she said, "there's been something of a change come over him. I remember what you said about him, and I think you're right. He's a man who has to be reckoned with, and he's determined to see you. He says that if he doesn't see you within the next hour, it may make a great deal of difference to you, that if you should telephone and get in touch with me, I am to tell you that. That I am also to tell you he is not willing to allow a locked door to stand between the woman he loves and her freedom."
There was a moment of silence, while Perry Mason scowled thoughtfully.
"Do you get what he means by that?" she asked.
"I get it," Mason said, "and I might as well have a showdown with that bird now as later. He's not going to browbeat me."
"I think," she told him, "there are detectives watching the office."
"Yes," he said, "there would be. They want to pick me up. I tell you, Della, what you do. I'm about eight blocks from the office, at the Turkish bath that's right up the avenue. You get Bradbury and get in a taxicab. Drive up to the Turkish bath. I'll be standing in the doorway. You can pick me up."
"Do you think it's safe for me to leave with him? You don't think the detectives will suspect anything?"
"No, I don't think so," he told her, "and I want a witness along. You'd better put a pencil in your handbag, and have a notebook that you can use if it becomes necessary. I'm going to reach an understanding with Bradbury, and reach it right now."
"Okay chief," she told him, "we'll be there in about ten minutes, and please, chief, be careful."
Perry Mason was scowling thoughtfully as he dropped the receiver into place. He left the Turkish bath, climbed a flight of stairs, and emerged into the warm morning sunshine. He stood back in the recess which opened from the sidewalk, and watched the hurrying pedestrians pounding the pavement on their way to the office buildings in the downtown business section.
His eyes scrutinized the passing faces with the keen, quick interest of a man who has learned to judge character at a glance, and who is sufficiently interested in human nature to read the stories written on the faces of the throngs who jostle about the city streets.
Now and again some young, attractive woman, feeling the impact of his gaze, would glance either furtively or frankly into his keenly searching eyes. Occasionally some man, catching Mason's stare, would frown with resentment, or turn to regard Mason with a stare which said plainly enough that the man thought he had surprised a detective at work.
Mason had stood motionless for perhaps five minutes when a blonde young woman came hurrying along the street. She intuitively felt his eyes upon her, and raised her own eyes. Suddenly she smiled. Perry Mason raised his hat.
It was the young woman who ran the cigar counter in the lobby of his office building.
She abruptly turned toward him.
"Why so pensive, Mr. Mason?" she asked.
"Just trying to think of the answer to a question, Mamie. What are you hurrying so about?"
"Just the old grind."
"Do me a favor, will you, Mamie?"
"Sure."
"Forget you saw me here if any one should ask you."
"Dodging clients," she asked, "or the police?"
"Both," he told her, and grinned.
"I don't blame you for dodging your new client," she said.
He stared at her.
"Which one?"
"The one who always wears the brown suit, with the brown tie, the brown shirt, and the socks that go with his tie."
"You mean Bradbury?"
"Yes, the one who bought the cigars that you didn't smoke. Thanks for the business, Mr. Mason. I knew you didn't smoke cigars."
He laughed.
"We can't let any outoftown money get away from us, Mamie. What's the trouble between you and Bradbury?"
"Oh, nothing," she said, "except that I think he's a smalltown sport."
"What gives you that impression?"
"Oh, the way he acts. He stops to visit with me every time he comes in the building, and he keeps getting intimate."
"You mean with things he says?"
"Oh, no. He doesn't say so much; it's his tone and his eyes that get intimate. A girl can tell when a man's taking a personal interest."
Perry Mason looked over her trim figure with an approving eye.
"You can't blame him for that," he said.
She smiled frankly at him, and said, "Don't get me wrong, Mr. Mason. I like to have them look me over. It tickles my vanity, and it brings me business. But what I don't like are these counter loungers who think they can date you up, leave a big package for you to keep, and then expect the profit on a fivecent magazine to pay the traffic."
A taxicab pulled in close to the curb.
"Remember what I said, Mamie," said Perry Mason, as he raised his hat and walked across the sidewalk.
"M'Gawd," she said, "he's got on a new outfit this morning. He's busted into gray… and look at the smirk on his face. Damn him. He thinks we're just getting in from a party."
Perry Mason paid no attention to the comment. His eyes held Bradbury as he walked to the door of the taxicab, jerked it open and climbed in.
"Drive straight up this street, buddy, until you come to a goodlooking side street without much traffic. Turn down it and park when you find a place."
He smiled at Della Street; then met Bradbury's gaze.
"You're an insistent cuss, Bradbury," he said.
Bradbury's eyes met his steadily.
"I'm a fighter, Mason," he remarked gently.
Mason studied the cold gray eyes, the determined angle of the jaw, and nodded his head. He pulled a package of cigarettes from his pocket, offered Della Street one, saw Bradbury shake his head in refusal and reach for a cigar; then, as Mason took one of the cigarettes, Bradbury scraped a match along the sole of his shoe. Mason also lit a match. Della Street thanked Bradbury with her eyes and accepted Mason's match. Bradbury frowningly diverted his match to his cigar. Perry Mason lit his cigarette after Della had her light, and said to Bradbury, "Well, what's the rumpus? I understand you were going to do things if you didn't see me."
"I have got to do certain things," said Bradbury slowly. "I feel that I am entitled to a conference with an attorney when I have hired him on a basis of fair remuneration."
"Let's not argue about that," Mason said. "You've got your conference now. What do you want?"
"I want you," Bradbury said, "to defend Dr. Robert Doray on the charge of murdering Frank Patton."
"I thought you wanted me to defend Marjorie Clune."
"I do. I also want you to defend Dr. Doray."
"You think they're both going to be indicted?"
"They both have been formally charged with murder," Bradbury said. "I got the news this morning. A formal charge has been lodged against them, and a warrant issued."
"Precisely what," asked Perry Mason, "do you want me to do?"
"I want you to defend Dr. Robert Doray," said Bradbury in closeclipped sentences, "and see that he is acquitted."
"It may not be easy to do either," Perry Mason said slowly, staring speculatively at the smoke which spiraled up from his cigarette. "If they are jointly charged with murder, it may be that for ethical reasons, I cannot represent both. In other words, it is possible that Doray might try to throw the blame on Marjorie Clune, and Marjorie Clune might try to throw it on Doray."
"Don't be technical, Counselor," Bradbury said. "The situation is critical. Something has to be done, and done immediately. I want Dr. Doray acquitted. You know as well as I do that there will be no question of a conflict of interest. If there is any chance of any conflict developing, it will be when each tries to take the blame in order to shield the other. That is one thing that I have to guard against. I want you to represent both of them to see that that doesn't happen."
"Well," Mason said slowly, "we'll argue about some of those ethical points when the proper time comes. As I understand it, neither of them has been arrested yet."
"That's right."
"Do you know all of the case that the police have?"
"They've got a pretty strong case," Bradbury said. "A very strong case against Dr. Doray. I doubt if they have a strong case against Marjorie Clune."
"And you want me to get Doray acquitted. Is that right?"
"You have simply got to get Doray acquitted."
"Suppose it should become necessary to have separate attorneys representing the defendants?" Perry Mason said, his eyes puckered and staring at Bradbury with such keen concentration that their depths seemed to hold a steely glitter. "Which one do you want me to take?"
"It's not going to be necessary," Bradbury said, "and I don't want to discuss the point. I am going to insist that you represent both, Counselor, and that as a part of your representation, you clear up the question of the door."
Perry Mason's eyes narrowed until the lids were level.
"What question about what door?" he asked.
"The question about the locked door into Patton's apartment," Bradbury said. "There are some things I don't need to go over, Mr. Mason. I am not particularly a fool. I appreciate what you have done. I recognize that what you have done was done for the best interests of all concerned, as you understood those interests at the time. However, I think the police are going to be able to prove that Marjorie Clune was at the apartment about the time of the murder. If the door of the apartment was unlocked, Marjorie Clune could have walked in, could have discovered the body, and could have walked away in a panic. And guilty of no crime other than failing to notify the officers of what she had found. If the door of the apartment was locked, it would mean that Marjorie Clune must have a key. It would mean that she must have been in sufficient control of her mental faculties to pause and lock the door behind her when she left the apartment. That won't look good for Marjorie. It won't look good for her case, and it won't look good for her character."
"But," said Perry Mason slowly, "suppose Marjorie Clune had been in the bathroom; suppose she had been having hysterics. Suppose some one had heard her cries, and had rushed in and killed Frank Patton?"
"Then," said Bradbury, without hesitation and in a tone of voice which showed that he had carefully thought over that phase of the situation, "Marjorie Clune would still have been the last one to have left the apartment, unless she had emerged while the murderer was there. To have found a body, and given no alarm, is perhaps a violation of some technical law. To have found a murderer engaged redhanded in the commission of his crime, and to have aided in his escape, would be to make herself an accessory. I don't want her to be an accessory. All in all, Counselor, the question of that locked door becomes more and more important."
Della Street fidgeted uneasily.
The cab turned down a side street, sped along for two or three blocks; then pulled close to the curb.
"How's this?" asked the cab driver.
"That," Perry Mason said, "is fine." His voice was an even monotone, as though he had been talking in his sleep. His eyes were staring with hypnotic steadiness at Bradbury.
Slowly he said, still in that same expressionless monotone, "Let's understand each other, Bradbury. You want me to represent Marjorie Clune and Dr. Doray."
"Yes."
"I'm to be paid for that representation."
"Yes."
"And, furthermore, you insist upon an acquittal."
"Furthermore," said Bradbury, "I insist upon an acquittal. Under the circumstances, Counselor, I think I am entitled to it. If there is not an acquittal, it will be necessary for me to make a complete disclosure of certain facts, which I need not mention at the present time, but which indicate very strongly, to my mind, that the door was locked sometime after both Marjorie Clune and the murderer had left the apartment where the murder was committed."
"And that," said Perry Mason, "is an ultimatum."
"If you want to put it that way," Bradbury said, "it's an ultimatum. I don't want to be harsh, Counselor. I don't want to have you feel that I'm putting you on a spot, but, by God! I intend to get a square deal for Marjorie Clune. We've been over all that before."
"And for Bob Doray?" asked Perry Mason.
"I expect an acquittal for Dr. Robert Doray."
"Don't you realize," Mason said slowly, "that virtually every fact in the case points unerringly to the guilt of Dr. Doray?"
"Of course I realize it," Bradbury said. "What do you think I am, a fool?"
"Not by a long ways," said Mason, with a degree of respect in his tone. "I was simply remarking that you'd handed me a big order."
Bradbury pulled a wallet from his pocket.
"Now that we have discussed that phase of the situation," he said, "I am perfectly willing to admit that it is a big order, and I am perfectly willing to admit that I expected to pay for it. I have given you a retainer of one thousand dollars. I now hand to your secretary an additional four thousand dollars. I expect to give you further compensation when a verdict of not guilty is returned by the jury."
With the crisp efficiency of a banker, Bradbury counted out bills to the amount of four thousand dollars, and handed them to Della Street.
She looked questioningly at Perry Mason.
Perry Mason nodded.
"Well," Perry Mason said, "we understand each other, anyway. That's one satisfaction. But I want you to understand this, Bradbury. I will endeavor to represent both Dr. Doray and Marjorie Clune. I will endeavor to secure a favorable verdict. I will call your attention, however, to the same thing that you have told me about yourself. That is, that you are a fighter. I, too, am a fighter. You fight for yourself. I fight for my clients. When I start in fighting for Marjorie Clune and Dr. Doray, I'm going to fight. There are not going to be any halfway measures."
Bradbury's face did not so much as change expression by the slightest flicker of a muscle.
"I don't give a damn what you do," he said, " — if you will pardon my French, Miss Street—or how you do it. All I know is that I want to be certain those two persons are acquitted."
Della Street spoke hotly.
"I'm not entirely in the dark about what you have reference to, Mr. Bradbury," she said. "I think you're perfectly horrid. Mr. Mason went out of his way to give you protection for the person you had employed him to protect. He did things that —"
"Steady, Della," warned Perry Mason.
She caught his eye, and was suddenly silent.
"I see," said Bradbury, "that she knows."
"You see nothing," said Mason grimly. "And I want to tell you right now, Bradbury, that you'll do a lot better for yourself and for your clients if you keep your finger out of the pie. We understand each other, and that's enough."
"That's enough," said Bradbury.
"Furthermore," Mason said, "I don't want any more of your veiled threats made to my secretary. I don't want you to try and browbeat her into getting any more interviews with me."
"I am not going to ask for any more interviews with you," Bradbury said. "I have given you my ultimatum. It stands. I am going to have nothing whatever to say about methods. I am going to hold you strictly accountable for results."
Della Street opened her mouth to say something, sucked in her breath with a quick intake; then, as she looked at Perry Mason's grim face, became silent.
Mason looked at Bradbury.
"All right," he said, "I'll get out here. You can take Della Street back to the office. You pay for the cab."
Bradbury nodded.
"See that he gets a receipt for the retainer," Mason said.
"Needless to say," Bradbury warned, "time is of the greatest value. The police are building up a dangerous case against Dr. Doray."
"Did you know they'd identified him as the purchaser of the knife?" asked Perry Mason.
Bradbury's face showed surprised consternation.
"You mean that they've proven he was the one that bought the knife that stabbed Patton?"
"Yes."
"Good God!" said Bradbury, and slumped back against the cushions of the cab and stared at the lawyer, his mouth sagging slightly open, his eyes wide.
"You knew that they'd located his car as having been parked near the vicinity of the crime?" asked Mason.
"Yes, I knew that. That's why I thought they had a damaging case against him. But, this other, my God, that's conclusive, isn't it?"
Perry Mason made a shrugging gesture with his shoulders.
"May I ask," he said, "why you are suddenly so anxious to have Dr. Doray acquitted?"
"That," said Bradbury, "is my business."
"I had rather gathered," Mason said, "that Dr. Doray was your rival for the affections of Miss Clune; that you didn't have any feeling of friendship for him—that is, no particular love."
"My feelings toward Dr. Doray haven't the slightest bearing on the case whatever," Bradbury remarked in a tone of voice which was doubtless intended as a rebuke. "You are an attorney. You make a business of representing people who are accused of crime, and securing acquittals. I have told you that I shall expect an acquittal of Dr. Doray as well as of Margy. If they're not acquitted on the evidence that the police produce, I propose to take steps, through other counsel, to see that the real facts are called to the attention of the court in order to secure a new trial."
"The facts, I take it," Perry Mason said, "relating to the locked door."
"Correct."
"Well, you're plain enough," Mason told him.
He grinned reassuringly at Della Street.
"Don't worry, Della," he said, "I've been in worse jams than this before."
"But," she said hotly, "how can he —?"
Mason frowned and shook his head.
"Della," he said, "the weather is delightful."
"Yes?" she asked.
"And," said Perry Mason, "whenever you discuss any subject with Mr. Bradbury, I want it to be the subject of the weather. The weather is always a very engrossing subject of conversation. It is virtually inexhaustible. Please see that Bradbury confines himself to it."
"Don't worry," Bradbury said, with a sudden frank smile twisting his lips, "I fight a fighter, Mason. I don't pick on women. I couldn't help observing that your secretary was fully familiar with the point I was making as I made it. That would seem to indicate that —"
Perry Mason interrupted with firmly insistent tones.
"The weather, Mr Bradbury," he said, "is delightful for this time of year. It is unusually warm."
Bradbury nodded.
"And, as I was about to remark," he said, "I shall attempt to take no advantage of you because of anything Miss Street might say or do."
Perry Mason pulled open the door of the taxicab, climbed to the sidewalk, and cocked an appraising eye at the cloudless sky. Then he raised his hat.
"There is a chance," he said, "that it may cloud over this afternoon."
Bradbury started to say something, but the banging of the taxicab door cut off his sentence, and Perry Mason was striding down the side street back toward the avenue.