“Very well,” Mason said. “I trust that everyone here understands that I have been asked to keep quiet regardless of any inaccuracies in Mr. Boom’s statements. I’m sorry, Counselor. I won’t interrupt again. Go right ahead.”

  “You went out to this house?” Halder asked.

  “I did.”

  “At whose request?”

  “Mabel Norge.”

  “Who’s she?”

  “I understand she’s the secretary for Ed Davenport. I’ve seen her around Paradise some.”

  “Did you know Davenport in his lifetime?”

  “Yes, I’ve talked with him a few times.”

  “And you went out to this house at the request of Mabel Norge?”

  “That’s right. She was calling for the police.”

  “And what did you find?”

  “I found the door unlocked, the lights on, and Mr. Mason and Miss Street making themselves very much at home.”

  “What else?”

  “I was instructed by Mabel Norge to find a letter that had been written by Mr. Davenport and left with her with the instructions that it was to be opened in the event of his death.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “I found that letter—that is, I found a lockbox which contained envelope which was sealed. On the envelope there was a statement in Mr. Davenport’s handwriting that it was to be delivered to the officers in the event of his death.”

  “And what did you do with that?”

  “I took it into my custody.”

  “You have that envelope here?”

  “You have it.”

  “Well, you gave it to me, didn’t you?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And I have it here in my desk. You’d know that envelope if you saw it?”

  “Certainly.”

  “How would you know it?”

  “Because I wrote my name on it.”

  “And the date?”

  “And the date.”

  “And then what did you do with it?”

  “I gave it to you.”

  “We had some discussion about what should be done with the letter, didn’t we?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And I put it in the safe?”

  “I believe so. You told me you put it in the safe.”

  “And then this morning we got together again?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And decided we’d better see what was in the letter?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And we cut it open?”

  “Yes.”

  “And there was nothing in it except several sheets of blank paper?”

  “That’s right.”

  “So then we started examining the envelope and decided it looked as though it might have been tampered with?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So we called in a man who is an expert in such matters and he told us that the gum arabic, or whatever it was that had originally been placed on the flap of the envelope with which to seal it, had been pretty well removed by being moistened and that the envelope had been steamed open and then sealed with mucilage and that this had probably been done within the last twenty-four hours?”

  “That’s right.”

  “All right,” Halder said, turning to Mason, “what have you to say about that?”

  “I’d say that you asked the questions very rapidly,” Mason said, “and that Boom answered them without the least hesitancy.”

  “No, no, that’s not what I mean. I mean what have you to say about the accuracy of his statements?”

  “Oh, good heavens,” Mason said. “You’ve taken me entirely by surprise. You specifically told me that I wasn’t to say anything when his statements were inaccurate.”

  “I meant I didn’t want you to interrupt.”

  “That wasn’t the way you expressed it, I’m sure. You told me particularly to keep quiet.”

  “Well, I’m asking you to talk now.”

  “In what way?”

  “I’m asking you to comment on Boom’s statements.”

  “I’m quite certain they’re not correct,” Mason said. “Now wait a minute, Mr. Boom, don’t get angry. I think that you feel they’re correct, but I don’t think that they are correct.”

  “In what respect are they wrong?” Halder asked.

  “Oh, in many respects. For instance, I believe you said Davenport had written on the envelope in his handwriting that in the event of his death it was to be turned over to the officers.”

  “That’s right.”

  Mason turned to Boom. “You’d seen Davenport in his lifetime?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You didn’t know he was dead?”

  “I don’t know he’s dead even now. I’ve been told he’s dead.”

  “Now,” Mason said, smiling, “you’re answering the questions the way I think you should, Mr. Boom. You’re confining your statements to your own knowledge. Now you stated that that was Mr. Davenport’s handwriting on the envelope. You don’t know whether that was Davenport’s handwriting, do you?”

  “Mabel Norge told me it was.”

  “I know, I know,” Mason said. “That’s hearsay. You don’t know that it was in Davenport’s handwriting.”

  “Certainly not.”

  “Now just a moment,” Halder said. “I didn’t bring Boom in here to be cross-examined.”

  Mason became angry for the first time. “What are you trying to do to me?” he asked “Are you trying to jockey me into a position where I can be misquoted?”

  Halder jumped up from the chair. “What are you insinuating?” he demanded.

  Mason said, “I’m not insinuating. I’m asking. First you tell me not to say anything if Boom’s statements are incorrect. Then you challenge me to point out where they’re incorrect. I start asking Boom questions in order to show by Boom’s own statements where his answers are incorrect and you jump up and charge that I have no right to cross-examine Boom.”

  “Well, you haven’t.”

  “I’m not cross-examining him.”

  “Well, it sounded like it to me.”

  “I’m simply trying to do what you told me to, to point out where his statements are incorrect.”

  “Well, that’s what I call cross-examining. Point out someplace where he’s made a wrong statement. I defy you to show anyplace where he has stated anything that isn’t true.”

  “Why, there were lots of places,” Mason said.

  “Name one,” Halder challenged.

  “For instance,” Mason said, “you have said a couple of times that the envelope contained the endorsement in Davenport’s handwriting that in the event of his death it was to be turned over to the officers.”

  “Well, I’ve explained now that I only know it was his handwriting because of what Mabel Norge told me,” Boom said.

  “So you don’t know it’s his handwriting?”

  “I don’t know it, no,” Boom shouted.

  “Well then,” Mason said, “how do you know that the envelope contained the endorsement that it was to be turned over to the officers in the event of his death?”

  “I saw it,” Boom yelled. “I saw that with my own eyes.”

  “Now just a minute,” Mason said, “don’t let your anger run away with you, Boom. You’re a nice, observing officer. You don’t mean that.”

  “I mean every word of it.”

  “That wasn’t what was on the envelope,” Mason said.

  “Well, that’s the effect of it. And I remember that’s what Mabel Norge told me was on the envelope.”

  “Exactly,” Mason said. “Now if the district attorney will kindly show you the envelope, Mr. Boom, you’ll find that that isn’t what was on the envelope at all. The only words on the envelope are ‘To be opened in the event of my death and the contents delivered to the authorities’ and that is followed by what purports to be the signature of Ed Davenport.”

  “Well, isn’t that the same thing?” Halder asked.

  “Certainly not,” Mason retorted. “In the one instance the instructions would have been that the envelope had been left in a sort of escrow to be delivered to the authorities unopened. But under the instructions actually written on the back of the envelope Mr. Davenport instructed his legal representatives—provided, of course, the words were in his handwriting—first to open the envelope and then, and only then, to deliver the contents to the authorities.”

  There was a complete, sickening silence in the office.

  “So you see,” Mason said, beaming at Boom, “Mabel Norge described a different envelope. So it wasn’t the pages inside of the envelope that had been substituted but it must have been the whole envelope. The envelope containing the message that Mabel Norge described to you couldn’t be found. The envelope which she produced was an entirely different envelope from what she said it was because it had a different message.”

  “Now wait a minute,” Halder said. “That’s the sheerest nonsense. You’re trying to confuse the issues.”

  Mason said, “Sir, I consider that as an insult. I am simply trying to clarify the issues. I defy you to analyze any one of my statements here and find anything in it which tends to confuse any issue. I came up here in a spirit of cooperation. I could have told you to go to the devil. I could have told you to get a subpoena or issue a warrant, or try to make me appear before a grand jury—and if I had appeared before the grand jury I could have insisted upon your questions being technically accurate.

  “As it is, I have chartered an airplane at great expense to myself. I have closed up my office for a day at a time when the most urgent demands were being made for my services. I have explained my position to you. I have asked you to put yourself in my position and to advise me if I should do anything different.

  “You yourself, as an attorney, don’t dare to advise me to do anything different, and now you’re accusing me of confusing the issues. I don’t like it. I—dammit, sir, you may consider my cooperation withdrawn. I have nothing further to state.”

  “You’re going to have a lot more to state,” Halder said. “You’re in my county now. You aren’t going to leave it without my permission.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean I can slap a subpoena on you. I can … I can arrest you.”

  “For what?”

  “For being an accessory before … after the fact.”

  “Accessory to what?”

  “Murder.”

  “Whose murder?”

  “Ed Davenport’s murder.”

  “Which is it,” Mason asked, “an accessory before or an accessory after the fact?”

  “I don’t know. I—yes, I do, too. It’s after the fact.”

  “What are the elements of murder?” Mason asked.

  “You know them as well as I do.”

  “You’d better prove them then,” Mason said. “One of the first elements of murder is a killing, a homicide, a dead body.”

  “Well, we haven’t found the body yet but we’re going to.”

  “The hell you are,” Mason said. “Why don’t you wake up?”

  “Wake up to what?”

  “Wake up to a consideration of the probabilities that Ed Davenport jumped out of the cabin window and ran away with his good-looking secretary, Mabel Norge. Where’s Mabel Norge? Get her. Bring her here. She’s charged me with tampering with an envelope. Let her make that accusation to my face.”

  “I … I haven’t been able to locate Miss Norge as yet.”

  “Your ‘as yet’ is going to be a long time,” Mason said.

  “She’s been very much upset by what has happened.”

  “I dare say she has,” Mason said angrily. “I’m an attorney at law. I’m not going to sit here and be charged by Mabel Norge with having committed some crime. I demand that Mabel Norge be produced and confront me with her accusation. I want to question her in regard to it.”

  “I’m questioning you, that is I’m trying to.”

  “You’re hurling accusations at me,” Mason said, “made by Mr. Boom and Mabel Norge, and you won’t confront me with my accusers.”

  “Mr. Boom is here.”

  “His accusations are hearsay.”

  “Some of them aren’t.”

  “They all are,” Mason said. He whirled to Boom. “What did Mabel Norge tell you about her reason for being at the house at that hour of the night?”

  “She said she was driving by.”

  “You know that couldn’t have been the truth,” Mason said. “There was no place she could drive to.”

  “She could have made a circle in the driveway and gone out.”

  “Sure,” Mason said. “That wouldn’t have been driving by. The road ends there. She didn’t say she went down to the house to see if things were all right. She said she was driving by casually, and then when I questioned her on that she admitted that was a false statement, didn’t she?”

  “Well—I’m not certain but what she did.”

  “And she didn’t tell you about having been out there earlier that evening, did she?”

  “Well, she worked there. I suppose—”

  “About having been out there about thirty minutes before I arrived.”

  “Thirty minutes before you arrived! Was she out there then?” Boom asked.

  “She didn’t tell you about that?” Mason asked.

  “No.”

  “She didn’t tell you about opening the desk and taking out that lockbox containing the envelope and substituting another envelope?”

  “No, of course not. You were there. You heard the conversation.”

  “She drove away with you,” Mason said. “She didn’t tell you about that?”

  “No.”

  “And she didn’t tell you about going to the bank that afternoon and drawing out virtually every cent in the account of Ed Davenport with a check which he had previously given her, which was signed in blank, and which was intended to be used under those circumstances?”

  Boom blurted, “She didn’t tell me about that. I found out afterward at the bank—”

  “Well, there you are,” Mason said angrily, turning to Halder. “Why the devil don’t you get the people in your own county? Why don’t you clear this thing up without letting some district attorney down in Fresno, or some Los Angeles district attorney, try to tell you a murder has been committed and make a sucker out of you?

  “Why don’t you get hold of the parties here and really clean this thing up and air the facts instead of calling on an attorney from Los Angeles to come up here at considerable inconvenience to himself to answer a lot of accusations made by a woman who has resorted to flight?”

  Halder said to Mason, “How the devil did you find out about that withdrawal from the bank and the fact that Mabel Norge was missing?”

  “Why?” Mason asked. “Wasn’t I supposed to know it?”

  “No one knows it. That’s been a closely guarded secret. I told my office not to let it out to anyone.”

  “Good heavens,” Mason said, “I should think it would have been obvious right from the start. Follow the pattern of the whole business.”

  “In that case—then you’re claiming—that is, it’s your position there wasn’t any murder?”

  “Murder?” Mason said. “Who the devil said there was a murder?”

  “The doctor said the man was dead.”

  “And the witness said the corpse climbed out of a window.”

  Halder bit at his lip.

  “Now then, let’s get this straight,” Mason said. “You were trying to conceal this information from me?”

  “I wasn’t making it public.”

  “You tried to keep me from finding out about it?”

  “Well, if you want to put it that way, yes.”

  “I think under the circumstances,” Mason said, “that I ‘ve been here now for some time endeavoring to cooperate with you, I think officially I have nothing further to say. I’ve answered your questions as freely and frankly as I can. I’ve given you something like an hour here.”

  “It hasn’t been that long.”

  “Well, it’s been quite awhile,” Mason said. “Long enough for you to have covered the situation pretty thoroughly. I’m going to start back to my office.”

  “You can’t leave this county until I tell you you can.”

  “The hell I can’t. Try to stop me.”

  “I’ve got lots of ways of stopping you.”

  “Try any one of them,” Mason said, “and by tomorrow morning your face will be just as red as a boiled lobster.”

  Perry Mason nodded to Della Street and strode out of the office, leaving a somewhat dazed group of men moving into a quick, huddled conference.

  Newsmen clustered around Mason as he came out.

  “Well?” they asked. “What happened?”

  Mason carefully closed the door, smiled and said, “I believe, boys, the district attorney told you that he’d issue a statement following the interview in which he’d give you all the news. If you’ll go in and interview him I think he’ll be glad to answer questions, and, under the circumstances, I’d prefer to have him do so.”

  Mason caught the eye of the reporter from The Oroville Mercury and winked at him.

  The other reporters opened the door and tumbled into the inner office.

  Pete Ingram joined Mason. “Okay?” he asked.

  “Get us in your car and out to the airport fast,” Mason said. “I’ll talk on the way out.”

  “This way,” Ingram said.

  They hurried out of the sheriff’s office. Ingram’s car was at the curb.

  “Make it snappy,” Mason told him.

  “What happened?” Ingram asked, putting the car into gear.

  Mason said, “It was quite an interview. What do you have on it?”

  “About all we have is that the interview took some time, that we could hear the rumble of voices which toward the last began to be raised in anger. Apparently the interview started harmoniously but ended on a sour note.”

  Mason said, “The interview was recorded on tape. Why don’t you insist that—?”

  “Not a chance. He wouldn’t even admit that it was recorded.”

  “Well,” Mason said, “let me drive the car. You ask questions and take notes and I’ll answer questions, because the minute we get to the airport we’re taking off.”