"And," Mason said with a smile, "I would prefer to have you tell me in public."

  "It doesn't have anything to do with the present case – that is ..." He hesitated.

  "Yes," Mason prompted.

  "I don't think it would have anything to do with this case."

  "But it might," Mason said.

  "Yes."

  "Perhaps then you should better let His Honor have the information, and let him be the judge of it."

  Homan compressed his lips firmly together, creased his forehead in a determined scowl, and stared at the carpet for several seconds. Then he said, "I have for some time had a suspicion that my chauffeur was putting through various long-distance calls in connection with his own business – using my phone. I would appreciate it very much if you have any information which would substantiate such a charge. I have given him notice, but – I would like to find out just the same."

  "What is your chauffeur's name?" Mason asked.

  "Tanner – Ernest A. Tanner."

  "Is he in court?"

  A slight commotion manifested itself among the spectators. A man stood up. "I am here," he drawled, "and I didn't ..."

  "Sit down," Judge Cortright snapped. "The course of the trial is not to be interrupted by spectators."

  Homan glowered at the man who was standing, a young, broad-shouldered, loosely-knit individual who seemed grimly determined, but who wilted under the stern glare of Judge Cortright's eyes and slowly sat down.

  "You do not know any L. C. Spinney?"

  "No, sir. I do not. And if any long-distance calls were put through on my telephone, either on the eighteenth or the nineteenth, they are unauthorized telephone calls put through by some person who had no right to do so."

  "Don't you audit your monthly long-distance bills?"

  Homan shook his head impatiently. "I do not. I have no time to devote to trivial matters. I simply instruct my secretary to write cheques covering all current expenses. I happen to have noticed that my telephone bills for the last few months have had numbers on them that I know nothing about, that's all. I took it for granted at first my younger brother had been calling friends. Then the other day I happened to mention it to him. Well, I suppose I can't tell about that conversation now – but, well, if you are finished with me, I have a very important matter pending. In fact, I had to ..."

  Judge Cortright said, "It is approaching the hour of adjournment, gentlemen. If the examination can be completed within a few minutes, the court will remain in session. Otherwise, the examination can be resumed tomorrow."

  "Your Honor," Homan said, "I simply can't come tomorrow. I am here today only because I was forced to come. I have a matter pending ..."

  Mason interrupted to say, "I have one or two questions I would very much like to ask, Mr. Homan, tonight. About this telephone. You have said that you let both the Filipino and the chauffeur go for ..."

  "They have rooms there in the house. They come and go as they please. I meant that I released them from duty."

  "Where does the chauffeur sleep?"

  "Over the garage."

  "And the Filipino boy?"

  "In a room in the basement."

  "They come and go through the front door?"

  "No, sir. The chauffeur uses stairs which front on another street – a side street. The Filipino boy uses a basement door which also fronts on a side street. My house is a corner house. It takes up several lots, but it is, nevertheless, a corner house."

  "Now, to get access to your telephone, would they have to come into the main part of the house?"

  "No, sir. There are telephone instruments in their rooms, also in various other parts of the house. There is an intercommunicating system by which I can ring those telephones from my study. They can be plugged in on an outside line, or with any other station which may be calling."

  "When you are talking on a telephone, could the others listen in?"

  Homan frowned and said, "I don't think they could, Mr. Mason, but you are asking about something which is outside of my field. I know very little about the operation of

  the household or of the telephone. I have my house as a place to retire, a place to relax, a place to work, and a place in which to entertain. Beyond that, I care very little about it. It's ..." He smiled and said, "As you may be aware, Mr. Mason, there is a certain amount of background which is necessary in Hollywood. A producer who ... well, I think you understand."

  Mason smiled and said, "I think I do."

  Judge Cortright said impatiently, "Well, I suppose there will be more cross-examination, Mr. Mason, and some redirect. Court will adjourn until ten o'clock tomorrow. You will return then, Mr. Homan."

  Homan jumped to his feet. "I can't! I simply can't. It would cost thousands of dollars to have my time disrupted tomorrow, I have ..."

  "Ten o'clock tomorrow morning," Judge Cortright said with tight-lipped finality, and walked from the courtroom into his chambers.

  The loose-jointed, broad-shouldered chauffeur pushed through the swinging gate, walked over to Homan, and stood looking at him with an air of contemptuous appraisal. "What's the idea?" he asked. "Trying to make me the goat for a scrape you have got into?"

  Homan said blusteringly, "I don't like your attitude."

  "You are going to like it a lot less than that," the chauffeur said. "If you want me to tell where you ..."

  Homan turned away, started toward the swinging gate in the mahogany rail which separated the tables reserved for attorneys and courtroom officials from the spectators. Tanner's long right arm reached out, and his fingers clamped in Homan's collar. "Just a minute, buddy," he said, "jus-s-st a minute."

  Homan whirled with swift agility and said in a voice harsh with rage, "Take your filthy hands off of me."

  Hanley, attracted by the commotion, stepped forward quickly. "Here," he said, "none of that. Get back there. What do you think you are doing?"

  "Homan knows what I am doing," Tanner said.

  Hanley's eyes narrowed. "You are Tanner?"

  "Yes."

  "All right, I represent the district attorney's office. Now there'll be no more of this."

  Tanner's voice still held no trace of temper. There was a certain contemptuous drawl in his words. "Listen," he said, "This guy puts on a great front for the public. He is a swell showman. He is a big shot. I am a nobody, but that's no sign he can do things to my reputation. He is going to take back what he has said, or I am going to show him up. He knows damn well that if I was to talk . . ."

  Hanley snapped, "This man is a witness. I consider his testimony pertinent and significant. You perhaps don't realize it, but what you are doing could well be construed as an attempt to intimidate a witness. You might find yourself in serious trouble."

  "Aw, nuts," Tanner said. "I am not intimidating any witness."

  "You are trying to make him change his testimony."

  "I am trying to get the rat to tell the truth."

  Homan sputtered, "I won't have any more of this. It's utterly absurd. This man is a ..."

  Hanley said, "This is neither the time nor the place for this argument, Mr. Homan. If you will come with me, please, I want to ask you a few more questions. You, Mr. Tanner, had better get out of here – right now!"

  Tanner stared at the deputy district attorney. For a moment it seemed as though he might express his feelings by twisting Hanley's nose. Then Hanley's attitude of being in complete command of the situation registered sufficiently so that Tanner turned on his heel.

  Hortense Zitkousky came up from the back of the courtroom to drop her hand on Stephane Claire's shoulder. "Chin up and carry on," she said.

  Stephane thanked her with a smile.

  Hortense said in a low voice to Mason, "That chauffeur was giving me the eye. Think it would be a good plan to ... ?"

  "Yes," Mason said, "and don't be seen with us."

  Hortense moved casually away as Mason gathered up his papers and pushed them into a brief case.

  Max Olger came pushing forward from the little knot of spectators who had taken time to mill around the courtroom in little gossiping groups, before departing. The twinkle of his shrewd gray eyes, seemingly intensified by the half spectacles over which they peered, appraised Mason as he grasped the lawyer's hand.

  "Superb," he said, "marvelous. You led the Lions girl on to absurdities. A very splendid job of cross-examination. I am very well satisfied, very grateful."

  Stephane Claire said, "And I think you did marvelously well, Mr. Mason."

  Mason said, "We may get a break. Mrs. Greeley's testimony shows that her husband could very well have gone to San Francisco on Homan's business. It is just barely possible that a person could have been in San Francisco at five-fifteen and at Bakersfield at ten. It would probably mean a plane. Its two hundred and ninety-three miles. We are going to do a little checking, and we may uncover something."

  "Can't you do that tonight and put on some surprise evidence tomorrow morning?" Max Olger asked.

  Mason grinned. "That is why I am stalling along tonight."

  "Where is Jacks?" Stephane Claire asked her uncle.

  "He was in court, but he is waiting outside. He thought perhaps it would be better for you to get out of the courtroom and away from the crowd."

  Stephane said musingly, "He is a good kid, always thinking of me. Sometimes I wish he would think of himself once in a while, just by way of variety."

  "A remarkably nice boy," Olger said. "Well, we shall be at the Adirondack Hotel in case you want us, Mr. Mason."

  "Be sure and be on hand tomorrow morning at ten o'clock," Mason cautioned. "Remember your bail money is forfeit if you don't show up."

  Stephane Claire smiled lazily. "Do you," she asked, "caution all of your clients that way, or are you afraid I am going to skip out?"

  Mason grinned. "It's routine."

  "How did I do on the stand?"

  "You were good."

  "Why didn't he tear into me on cross-examination? I thought he would."

  "Wait until he gets you in front of a jury," Mason said. "This is just a preliminary. I am not so certain but what Judge Cortright may turn you loose, at that. You have made a good impression."

  Chapter 15

  HORTENSE Zitkousky stood in the doorway of the ladies' restroom until she heard the pound of quick steps in the corridor. She stepped out of the cross corridor just in time to confront Ernest A. Tanner as he came striding toward the elevator. She received a quick glance, and only a quick glance. He seemed very determined, very much engrossed.

  Hortense followed him to the elevator, rode down in the same cage with him. Still Tanner made no effort to speak, hardly seemed to notice her.

  On the ground floor, Tanner loitered near the elevators. Hortense walked as far as the door, then turned, came back, and suddenly placed her band on Tanner's elbow.

  Tanner whirled. His eyes, cold and determined, looked down into the jovial countenance of a buxom young woman who very apparently derived much enjoyment from life.

  "Don't do it," she counseled. "He isn't worth it."

  Tanner's eyes softened somewhat. He said, "He has got it coming."

  "Oh, don't, please! I don't blame you for being mad, but I certainly wouldn't play right into his bands."

  "I am not. I am playing right into his face."

  Her good-natured laugh came welling up from her diaphragm. "Forget it. I work for a lawyer. I know what they can do."

  "What has that got to do with me?"

  "Homan," she said. "Why do you suppose he is staying behind? He wants a bodyguard, and protection."

  Tanner said, "I can lick ten times my weight in bodyguards."

  "There is no percentage in it," she said. "Come on. Let us get out of here."

  "What's your tie-in with this?" he asked suspiciously.

  "I knew a Stephane Claire in San Francisco. I read about the case in the paper and thought she might be the girl I knew. I came up here to find out."

  "Was she?"

  She avoided the question. "I had the afternoon off and saw no reason why I should run back to pound a typewriter. The work was all caught up anyway, and then I got interested in the case. Come on. Be a sport and get started for home. Then I can go about my business and forget you."

  "What do you care what happens to me?"

  She considered the question for a moment, then smiled and said, "Darned if I know. I just do. Perhaps it's a maternal instinct."

  "Maternal!" he said. His eyes studied her with more interest. "Tell you what. Come on to dinner with me, and I shall call it off."

  "Oh-oh," she said. "Fast like that."

  "Is it a deal?"

  "Come on outside, and we shall talk it over."

  "You are trying to decoy me away from here and then ..."

  A descending cage came to a stop. The big door smoothly slid back, and Homan stepped out. Two broad-shouldered men were with him.

  Hortense Zitkousky moved so that she was between Tanner and the elevator, raised her voice slightly, and said, "... and I says to her, 'That may be your way of doing things, but it ain't mine.' Well, you know Gertie, and you know how she would take a thing like that. She ..."

  One of the men escorted Homan toward the door. The other paused belligerently. Tanner started to move around past Hortense.

  Her finger traced a design on the lapel of Tanner's coat. "Well," she said, "that floored her. Gertie just sat and looked at me and ..."

  The officer hesitated a moment, then followed Homan and the other plainclothes man out of the door.

  Tanner let his breath go in a deep sigh. "I guess," he said, "I owe you one for that."

  "Can't you see? They have got you, coming and going. There is nothing you can do with a setup like that. Come on. Forget it. If you feel that way about it, and really want to do something, why don't you go to the girl's lawyer?"

  "Not me," Tanner said. "I don't rat."

  "But there is nothing to rat about ... is there?"

  He said shortly, "Homan is a liar. It is all right by me. I am not squealing on him, but I am not going to be the goat."

  "Oh, forget him. He is just a stuffed shirt."

  "I shall say he is. Just another one of those guys who graduated from nothing into big money, and puff out like a circus balloon. Someday somebody will stick a pin into him, and he will go pop and be just a fistful of limp rubber."

  Hortenze Zitkousky was talking easily now. "I used to work for one of those Hollywood writers. My gosh, did he take himself seriously. And the stuff he turned out! Why, say, when he was working, he couldn't be disturbed, and he had to have coffee at just the right temperature, and a whole carton of cigarettes at his elbow, and ashtrays and matches. You would think he was turning out the world's greatest masterpiece, and when you saw it on the screen, it made you gag. The only thing that held the audience through to the end was the dishes and groceries."

  Tanner laughed. "Don't blame it on the writer," he said. "It was probably one of Homan's pictures. After it was half filmed, he pitched the script out of the window, and tried to imitate a current success over at MGM."

  "Is he like that?" Hortense asked.

  "Is he like that? Come on, let us eat. What do I call you besides – Say?"

  "My name's Hortense. My friends call me Horty. Oh, well, why not? Say, listen, you have just lost your job. You probably haven't got a heck of a lot of money, and even if you have. You have no business spending it on me. Let's go to some cheap place."

  "I shall take you to the best. What do I care about dough?"

  "No. I am a working girl myself, and I hate to see a man shell it out to some snooty waiter who wants the price of an hour's work for a cup of bum coffee, and then expects a tip on top of that. Come on. I know a swell place."

  "No, you don't," Tanner said, smiling now. "Homan canned me, but I didn't need his job anyway. I have got dough, and I know where I can get more."

  "Well, don't say I didn't warn you."

  "All right, come on over. We will get a taxi."

  "No. A streetcar."

  "A taxi."

  "Say, you aren't one of the Rockefeller boys in disguise, are you? Or are you an international spy getting paid to sabotage motion pictures?"

  "Oh, come on, Horty. Quit worrying about it. It's okay."

  "There's a swell Chinese restaurant down here. We can walk that far."

  "We can't dance there. I like to dance."

  "So do I."

  "Come on. You are going with me. Taxi! Oh taxi!"

  The cab swung around to glide up to the curb. Tanner said, "Straight on down the street. I shall tell you where to go after a while." He assisted Hortense into the car, said, "Listen, I am in the dumps tonight, but you are cheering me up. There is something comfortable and homey about you. What do you say we just have a sandwich and a bottle of beer now, go to a show, and then have a real dinner, and make a lot of whoopee afterwards?"

  "I have got to work tomorrow."

  "Forget tomorrow. I shall have you home early enough to get a little shuteye."

  "Okay."

  "I know a swell place that specializes in liverwurst sandwiches on rye bread, and has the best beer in the city."

  Hortense settled back against the cushions of the cab. "Evidently," she observed, "you know your way around."

  Tanner laughed, a laugh of masculine vanity. "If you want to really see the town some night – well, take a Saturday night when you don't have to get home. How about it? A date?"

  "We will see. Only promise you won't have any more trouble with Homan. I don't want to go out with a man who has a black eye."

  "Homan," Tanner said, "had better leave me alone. Once I get a chance to talk with Homan privately, he will sing a different tune."

  "Not him," Hortense said with the positive assurance of one who has some definite knowledge. "A big windbag like that always keeps up his bluff. Nothing you could say would change him."

  "You don't know what I could say."

  "No, but I know the sort of man Homan is. I worked for a fellow just like that one. And say, I am going to tell you something. I wouldn't take Homan's word for anything. This man I used to work for – well, I wouldn't trust him."

  "Oh, Homan is all right. But he is lying about that car."