"If you want any more time to think up a good one, I shall talk with Drake first. You understand the position I am in. The chief will think you used me as a cat's-paw."

  Mason said, "I get fed up with this. If I cooperate with you, I am using you as a cat's-paw. If I go ahead on my own, I am included in the list of suspects."

  "The trouble, Mason, is that you find too many bodies."

  Mason said, "No. The trouble is that I can't stay in my office and wait for people to come in and see me the way clients are supposed to. I have to get out on the firing line. When you do that, you circulate around quite a bit and ..."

  "And you still find too many bodies," Tragg said.

  "I was going to add," Mason remarked with some dignity, "that once a man gets a reputation for being a good lawyer in a murder case, murders have a tendency to gravitate in his direction."

  Tragg thought that over for a few moments, and said, "Yes. I guess that's so. A person who has committed a murder naturally thinks of Perry Mason. And, by the same token, a person who intends to commit a murder naturally thinks of Perry Mason."

  "I am glad you recognize that fact. It may simplify matters."

  "Who is this guy?" Tragg asked, jerking his head toward the bed.

  "I don't know," Mason said.

  "You don't know! I thought you said you did."

  "I know that he was registered here as Walter Lossten. That is all I know about him."

  Tragg looked at him suspiciously. "You couldn't see the face when you came in?"

  "No."

  "Then how do you know that you don't know him?"

  "If he is the man I think he must be, I have never met him."

  "And who do you think he must be?"

  "The man who was driving Homan's car."

  Tragg frowned. "Listen, Mason, you keep trying to drag Homan into this thing. Hollywood has a few million dollars invested around this town. A group of the highest-salaried men and women in the world are gathered into a few square miles. Naturally, it is the richest blackmail pasture on earth. The D.A.'s office knows this, and tries to give Hollywood the breaks. You know that as well as I do."

  Mason nodded.

  "Now, I can't go barging up to Homan the way I would an ordinary citizen. You know that."

  Mason said, "You were asking me for facts. I was giving them to you. I take it that you want them?"

  "Nuts," Tragg said.

  Mason said, "Perhaps I would better take a look at the body."

  "Perhaps you had."

  Mason walked over to the bed, stepping over a tape measure with which two of Tragg's assistants were measuring the distance from the bed to the window.

  The body had been turned over on its back, and Mason looked down upon features so perfectly in accord with the description Stephane Claire had given him of the man who was driving the car that Mason felt he must have known this man at some time, personally and intimately.

  He turned away. Tragg raised his eyebrows. Mason nodded.

  Tragg said to one of the men, "You boys finished with this telephone?"

  The man to whom he had spoken said, "Yeah. The fingerprints on it are all pretty badly smudged, and I think they are old. I don't think anyone has used it within the last twenty-four hours."

  "All right," Tragg said, picked up the telephone, called headquarters and said, "This is Lieutenant Tragg of Homicide. I am in five-twenty-one at the Gateview Hotel working on a case. Stephane Claire, who is being held on that automobile accident on the Ridge Route, may know this man. Have a couple of radio officers pick her up and bring her here fast. She is at the Adirondack Hotel." He hung up.

  Mason said, "So you know where she is?"

  Tragg grinned. "Don't be silly. It is a county case, but when she was released on bail – well, they asked us to cooperate. After all, it is a homicide, you know."

  "I didn't know you boys worked together with so much harmony."

  "Orders from the Chief," Tragg said.

  Mason smiled. "Hollywood certainly does have a drag!"

  Tragg changed the subject.

  "You were looking for this man?"

  "Naturally. He is the driver of the Homan car."

  "What name did you know him by?"

  "I tell you I didn't know him."

  "What name did he give your client?"

  "He didn't give her any. The accident happened before they got that well acquainted."

  "Cagey, aren't you?"

  "No. Truthful."

  "When you wanted me to come out, you said something about a Spinley or Semley, or some such name."

  "I don't remember it."

  Tragg tried another tack. "How did you happen to look for him in this hotel?"

  "Paul Drake's men were making a search. They asked the clerk if a man who answered this description had arrived at the hotel last night and found he had."

  Tragg's slight frown showed his irritation. "Very, very nice," he said, and then added, after a significant pause, "for you. That is, it would be nice if I believed it."

  "You can prove it," Mason said.

  "How?"

  "By checking with the clerk."

  "I am not doubting that. You are too shrewd to give me a false lead on something that could be checked as easily as that. But what I want to know is how Drake's men happened to pick this particular hotel."

  "They were looking for the driver of the car."

  "You mean the corpse over here?"

  "Yes."

  "And why did they happen to look here?"

  "They were covering the hotels."

  "How many other hotels did they cover?" Tragg asked.

  As Mason remained silent, Tragg grinned. "You are a tough customer, Mason. You know your rights, and you will keep within them, but if I have to I will get the facts from Paul Drake. Remember, Drake is running a private detective agency. He would hate to have anything happen to his license."

  Mason said, "Drake and I had a witness we were keeping in the hotel. We thought this man might try to reach her."

  "That is better. Who was the witness?"

  "I would prefer not to discuss that."

  "Doubtless you would, but who was it?"

  "I don't think I shall answer that, Tragg."

  Tragg said to one of the men, "Get Paul Drake up here."

  Mason said, "After all, Tragg, you have no right to inquire into the confidential affairs of a lawyer even if you are trying to clear up a murder case."

  Tragg didn't even bother to reply.

  Paul Drake appeared in tow of the officer.

  Tragg said, "All right, Drake, let us have this straight. Your men located this man here in the hotel. No, don't look at Mason. Just answer the question."

  Drake nodded.

  "How did they happen to locate him here?"

  "They made inquiries of the clerk."

  "All right, Drake, I will be patient with you, but don't carry it too far. How did they happen to make inquiries of the clerk?"

  "Mason thought the man might be here."

  "And when did Mason get that bright idea?"

  "About nine-fifteen or nine-thirty this morning."

  "Who was the witness that was here at the hotel?"

  "I didn't know there was any."

  Tragg's face flushed slightly. "How many times have you been at this hotel within the last twenty-four hours, Drake?"

  Mason said, "Go ahead and tell him, Paul. He will find out from the assistant manager, anyway."

  Drake said, "Mason and I brought a woman into the hotel last night. I didn't know she was a witness. I thought she was just going to give Mason ..."

  "What is her name?"

  "Mrs. Warfield."

  "Where is she from?"

  "New Orleans."

  "Where did she register?"

  "Room six-twenty-eight."

  "Well," Tragg exclaimed, "it took us quite a little while to get that simple piece of information, didn't it? Where is that woman now?"

  "I don't know," Mason said.

  "You have been to her room?"

  "Been to her room," Mason said, "secured a passkey, gone in, and looked around."

  "Indeed, and what did you find?"

  "Nothing. She wasn't there."

  "The room in the same condition now that it was then?"

  "Inasmuch as I was paying the bill," Mason said, "and apparently she had no intention of using the room, I checked out for her."

  Tragg's voice became crisply businesslike. "All right. Mason – and you too, Drake, get this straight. We aren't always on the same side of the fence. I can't help that, and you can't help it. You have your living to make. I have my living to make. But, by God, when I ask you fellows a question, I want an answer. Beating around the bush isn't going to get you anyplace. If you don't want to answer and think you can make it stick, simply refuse to answer. But don't try giving me a runaround. Is that straight?"

  Mason said, "Watch your questions then. Don't accuse me of giving you a runaround if I don't volunteer information."

  "If it is going to be like that," Tragg said, "I can take care of it. All right, let us go take a look at that room Mrs. Warfield had."

  "Someone else may be in it now," Mason said. "We checked out."

  "Get the manager," Tragg told one of his men.

  While the man was getting the manager, a radio officer escorted Stephane Claire out of the elevator. She seemed white and frightened. Her eyes glanced appealingly at Mason.

  Mason said, "This is Lieutenant Tragg of Homicide, Miss Claire. You will find him very competent, but exceedingly partisan. I am afraid you are in for a disagreeable experience. We want you to look at a body."

  "At a body!"

  Mason nodded.

  "Here?"

  "Yes."

  "Why?... What?..."

  Mason said, "The man was mur . . ."

  "That will do," Tragg said to Mason. "I shall do the talking from now on. Miss Claire, we thought perhaps this might be the body of a man whom you have known. If you won't mind stepping this way, please... " He took her arm and escorted her into the hotel bedroom.

  There was the unmistakable atmosphere of death in the room. The body that was sprawled on the bed clothed the surroundings with the quiet dignity of death. On the other hand, the men who were working trying to develop clues, seemed entirely set apart from all solemnity. So far as they were concerned, the body on the bed might have been a sack of potatoes. It was merely an inanimate object to be photographed, measured, and studied in connection with the other objects in the room.

  These men worked skillfully and quickly, with a complete air of detachment. Constant familiarity with death had in some way made them seem immune to it.

  Lieutenant Tragg guided Stephane Claire past these men, moved around the foot of the bed in such a way that his body obstructed her vision. Not until she was where she could look directly down at the man's face did Tragg step quickly to one side.

  "Know this man?" he asked.

  Stephane Claire stared down at the still gray features. For several moments her eyes were held as by some magnetic attraction which was stronger than her own volition, then she managed to shift her eyes to Tragg's face.

  "Yes, I know him. I don't know his name."

  "Who is he?"

  "He was the one who was driving the car the night of the wreck, the one who picked me up as a hitchhiker."

  Tragg made a little bow to Mason. "Very neatly done, Mason," he said sarcastically. "I congratulate you. I suppose that will be your defense."

  "Naturally," Mason said.

  "Why, it is the truth!" Stephane Claire exclaimed. "Mr. Mason hasn't said a word to me. I haven't seen or heard from him since I left the hospital."

  Tragg looked from Stephane Claire to Mason. "Dammit," he said to Mason, "I believe you. And offhand I can mention the names of three thousand eight hundred and seventy-six persons directly and indirectly connected with the police who won't."

  The assistant hotel manager was profuse in his expostulations, emphasizing his desire to work with the police, and the high reputation which the hotel enjoyed.

  "We want to take a look at Mrs. Warfield's room," Tragg said. "Come on. Mason. You and Drake come along – and you can stay with that officer, Miss Claire." And it was significant that Tragg hadn't even mentioned the baggage which he had found in the room with the corpse.

  The little group walked down to the elevator, rode up to the sixth floor, and the manager said, "I understand the room is in the same condition as it was when..."

  "When the party checked out?" Tragg asked.

  "When the bill was paid."

  "Who paid it?"

  "This gentleman here, her brother-in-law."

  "Her brother-in-law!" Tragg exclaimed.

  "That is what he said."

  Tragg looked at Mason. "Well, well, well, you didn't tell me she was related to you, Mason. And you a brother-less bachelor." He turned to the manager. "I don't suppose you know when this party checked out?"

  "I most certainly do," the manager said. "Mr. Mason and this other gentleman appeared and paid the bill. There was a very attractive young woman with them at the time. Mr. Mason said the party in the hotel was his sister-in-law, that she had a weak heart, and that he was afraid something had happened to her. I sent a bellboy up to investigate. We found the room unoccupied. There was no baggage in it."

  "No baggage?" Tragg asked.

  "No."

  "Then she had baggage when she rented the room?"

  "She had a suitcase and a hatbox."

  Tragg digested that information. Once more he kept silent about the baggage which Mason had seen in the room where the murder had been committed.

  "Go on," Tragg said. "What else happened?"

  "After Mr. Mason had paid the bill and left, he told me that in case I saw Mrs. Warfield, I was to let her know that her brother-in-law had been looking for her and was very much concerned about her."

  "The only catch being that he knew you wouldn't see her," Tragg said.

  "On the contrary, I did see her."

  "You did?" Tragg stopped abruptly and stared at the manager.

  "Yes Lieutenant, she walked across the lobby not more than fifteen minutes after Mr. Mason had paid the bill. You see, the clerk who was on duty wasn't the one who had checked her in, but we had her description, and he knows most of the regular guests. He called to her and told her he had a message for her. She came to the counter to wait for the message. He called me, and I told her her brother-in-law had been here and wanted her to communicate with him. She insisted that her name was not Warfield, that she had no brother-in-law, that we were impertinent, and started for the door. I tried to detain her, but she was so utterly indignant that I couldn't be certain of my ground. After all, her bill had been paid, and there was no legal ground on which I could hold her, but there are several matters in connection with her stay here which haven't been properly explained."

  "She had no baggage with her when she left?"

  "No."

  Tragg said, "Let us take a look at the room."

  The manager opened the door, and Tragg, motioning for the others to wait in the corridor, entered the room. He looked quickly around, then turned swifty to the manager. "Look here, this room has been made up. You said it was in the same condition as when she left."

  The manager shook his head. "I understand it is in exactly the same condition as it was when the bellboy opened it with his passkey."

  "What time was that?"

  "Perhaps around eight-thirty."

  Tragg gently turned back the covers of the bed. "She didn't make this bed?" he asked.

  "No, sir. The sheets are absolutely clean. The bed hasn't been used."

  "The chambermaid didn't change the sheets?"

  "The chambermaid hasn't been in here."

  "You are certain?"

  "Yes."

  Mason, standing in the doorway, said, "No towels have been used in the bathroom either, Lieutenant."

  Tragg turned to Mason, regarded him speculatively, then devoted his attention once more to a study of the room.

  He whirled back to Mason. "What was she doing out here?"

  "Looking for work."

  "Did she find any?"

  "She had a job under consideration."

  "What sort of a job?"

  "I believe she was told that the vacancy hadn't occurred as yet, but might within the next few days, and that her salary would be kept on while she was waiting."

  "Do you believe that is what she was told?"

  "Yes."

  Tragg's smile became a grin. "All right," he said, "who told her?"

  Mason answered his grin. "Paul Drake."

  "At whose suggestion?"

  "Mine."

  Tragg said, "Well, I had to make those questions specific enough in order to get an intelligent answer."

  "You got the answer, didn't you?"

  "Yes."

  Tragg said, "Let us see if we can't short-cut some of this a little, fellows. You made Mrs. Warfield that proposition because you wanted her for something – what?"

  "We wanted to locate her husband for her."

  Tragg said, "Nuts," and walked away to stand in the door to the bathroom. Then he came back, looked at the drawn shades and the electric light.

  He turned again to Mason, "What would I have to do, Mason, to get you to give me the whole dope on this thing – the real low-down?"

  "Ask questions," Mason said. "Ask anything you want, and I shall answer it."

  "And what would I have to do to get you to give it to me without asking questions?"

  "Follow up the leads I was working on."

  "You mean Hollywood?"

  Mason nodded.

  Tragg hesitated a moment, then shook his head. "That's too large an order – yet."

  "Then keep on asking questions," Mason said.

  "Thanks. I will," Tragg promised grimly. "I shall begin by asking you the name you mentioned when you called on me earlier this morning."

  Mason frowned as though perplexed. "Homan?" he asked.

  "No, no," Tragg said. "Come on, quit stalling. The one from San Francisco."

  "Oh, from San Francisco. I am not certain that I..."

  "The one that sounded like Spelley or something of that sort."

  Mason frowned. "I don't remember any Spelley."

  "Was that name Greeley, Adler Greeley?" Tragg asked.