"All right," Mason said, "go home and talk it over with her. Remember this, as an attorney at law I'm obligated to do what is for the best interests of my client.

  "You tell me that he was alive and well when you left, but your wife and your stepson tell me that he was lying there fatally injured; only, because his clothes were saturated with whiskey, they thought he was drunk.

  "I'm not in a position to take your word against theirs. I have to do what's for Dianne's best interests."

  Winlock said, "You can't do it, Mason. You're a reputable attorney. You can't suborn perjury."

  "You think your wife is going to perjure herself?"

  "I know it."

  "You don't think Boring might have been putting on an act for their benefit? That he had poured whiskey over his clothes and was lying there, apparently in a stupor? That he then got up when you entered the unit and talked with you?"

  "There was no odor of whiskey on his garments when I talked with him."

  Mason said, "If such is the case, you are Boring's murderer. You have to be."

  "Don't be a fool, Mason," Winlock said.

  "Under those circumstances," Mason observed somewhat thoughtfully, "the case would-under those circumstances-be mixed all to hell. Nobody would know what to do. It would shake this community to its foundations."

  "If my wife and my stepson get on the stand and commit perjury," Winlock said, "I suppose I have no alternative but to get on the stand and tell a similar story, but I'll tell you right now, Mason, it would be a lie."

  "Under those circumstances," Mason said, "I wouldn't call you as a witness. But that doesn't keep me from calling Mrs. Winlock and Marvin Harvey Palmer."

  Winlock looked at Mason, then hastily averted his eyes. "I wish I knew the answer to this," he said.

  "And I wish I did," Mason told him, eying him thoughtfully.

  "I can, of course, get my wife out of the jurisdiction of the court," Winlock said.

  "Sure you can," Mason said, "but I'll warn you of one thing. If I decide to put on a defense and call your wife and stepson and they're not available, I'll tell the court the conversations I have had with them and the fact that they have offered to testify. I'll insist on having the case continued until they can be called as witnesses, and you can't stay out of the jurisdiction of the court indefinitely. You have too many property interests here."

  Winlock shook his head, said, "I have no alternative. I'm gripped in a vise." He walked to the door, groped for the knob and went out.

  Della Street regarded Mason quizzically.

  Five minutes later the telephone rang.

  Della Street said, "Mrs. Winlock for you, Mr. Mason."

  Mason took the receiver.

  Again Mrs. Winlock's voice, almost mockingly cool, said, "Have you reached a decision yet, Mr. Mason?"

  "Not yet," Mason said.

  "I'll be available at my house, Mr. Mason. Give me a few minutes to get ready. My son will be with me."

  "And you'll testify as you have indicated?" Mason asked.

  "I'll testify as we have indicated, provided you will give me your word as a gentleman and an attorney that you and Dianne will preserve the secret of Dianne's relationship, and will accept the financial settlement offered by Mr. Winlock.

  "Good day, Mr. Mason."

  Again the phone was hung up at the other end of the line.

  At that minute two waiters appeared, bringing in the luncheon.

  "Well, Mr. Perry Mason," Della Street said, when the waiters had left the room, "you seem to have worked yourself into a major dilemma."

  Mason nodded, toyed with the food for a few minutes, then pushed his plate aside, got up and started pacing the room.

  "Know what you're going to do?" Della Street asked.

  "Damn it!" Mason exploded. "The evidence points to the fact that George Winlock is the murderer."

  "He has to be," Della Street said. "That is, unless Dianne is lying."

  "I have to take my client's story as the truth," Mason said. "I am bound to accept her statement at face value. And yet she has to be lying about making that phone call to the manager of the motel. Mrs. Winlock must be the one who made that call. Dillard's testimony as to the time Dianne left clinches that. Dianne simply didn't have time to get to the phone and make that call.

  "Now then, the significant thing is that Mrs. Winlock didn't make the call until after her husband had left the cabin and had a chance to report to her that he had frightened or forced Boring into returning the blackmail money."

  "Then that leaves George D. Winlock the murderer," Della Street said.

  "And he's handled things so cleverly," Mason agreed, "that if I do try to expose him as a murderer, I look like a heel. If, on the other hand, I put Mrs. Winlock and her son on the stand and let them swear to the story they've offered to tell, I get Dianne off the hook but leave myself open to a charge of suborning perjury at any time Winlock wants to lower the boom on me."

  "Could this be a very shrewd, clever stunt that they jointly have carefully worked out and rehearsed?" Della Street asked.

  "You're damn right it could," Mason said.

  "And," she asked, "what's going to be your countermove?"

  "I don't know," Mason told her. "At first I thought it was simply an offer to furnish perjured testimony and I was going to throw the whole thing out in the alley. Now I'm not so certain that it isn't a carefully, cunningly contrived plot to hamstring my defense and put me in such a position that I don't know what actually did happen."

  The lawyer resumed his pacing of the floor.

  After a few minutes he said, "Of course, Della, it's not up to me to prove who did murder the guy-that's up to the prosecution. My job is to prove Dianne innocent."

  "Can you do it?" she asked.

  "With this testimony I could do it hands down," Mason said.

  Again the telephone rang.

  "Paul Drake," Della Street said.

  "Hello, Perry," Paul Drake said. "I'm finished down here at the Restawhile Motel."

  "What did you find out?"

  "The distance to be covered is about a hundred feet each way. Moving at a fairly normal rate of speed it takes about thirty seconds each way. Moving at a rapid rate of speed, you cut that time down.

  "Getting in, picking up the telephone and putting the call through accounts for seven seconds. So her testimony is approximately correct. Figure about a minute and ten seconds as the outside time limit if she did what she said she did."

  "All right," Mason said, "here's something else for you, Paul. Drive down to the telephone booth three blocks down the street. Time yourself from the entrance of the motel. Call me from that booth and let me know how long it takes until you hear my voice. I'll be waiting here at the phone."

  "Okay," Drake said, "and then I want some lunch. I'm ravenous. I suppose you folks are sitting up there smug and well fed."

  "We're neither smug nor well fed," Mason said. "I'm sitting on the end of a great big limb and I'm not too certain somebody between me and the tree doesn't have a very sharp saw.

  "Get busy and see what you can find out, Paul."

  Four minutes later, Paul Drake telephoned.

  "Hello, Perry," he said when he had the lawyer on the line. "It took me exactly two minutes from the time I left the entrance of the motel to get down here, park my car, get in the telephone booth, close the door, dial you and get your answer."

  "Hang it," Mason said. "Dianne couldn't have left the place and placed that call, or else the time element is all wrong."

  Drake said dryly, "She was the last person to see Harrison Boring alive. You may be able to mix Dillard up on the time element but that's all it's going to amount to, just a technicality. The facts speak for themselves."

  "Of course," Mason said into the telephone, almost musingly, "the time Dianne left can be checked with physical facts. The time she entered is fixed only by Dillard's watch.

  "Just suppose he made the mistake of setting his watch not by the radio but by the clock there in the motel office."

  "Would it help if you could show that?" Drake asked.

  "Anything would help," Mason said. "That is, anything that clarifies the situation."

  "Or confuses it," Drake said dryly. "I'm going to get some lunch."

  Mason hung up the telephone, turned to Della Street. "Two minutes," he said.

  "And that throws Dillard's time off about four minutes?"

  "Something like that."

  Della Street said, "He was looking at his watch in the dark and he could have misread the hands."

  "It's vital as far as Dianne is concerned," Mason said.

  "Of course," she pointed out, "it opens up some question of doubt, but after all she was in there at least ten minutes, even if Dillard did make a mistake."

  "She says she wasn't," Mason said.

  "But," Della Street pointed out, "she admits she remained long enough to search for and find the contract. She was only estimating the time."

  Mason said, "The thing that annoys me is the smooth assurance of this district attorney who acts on the assumption that this is just a simple routine matter of another preliminary hearing in another murder case and there's no reason on earth why he shouldn't have it all buttoned up inside of half a day."

  "But," Della Street said, "the main problem is whether Winlock is lying, whether the whole family isn't protecting the stepson, or who struck the fatal blow and when. After all, Dillard's time discrepancies are minor matters."

  Mason said, "I have in my hand an opportunity to introduce testimony that will throw the district attorney's case out of the window, get Dianne in the clear and at the same time get a property settlement for her running into a very substantial figure.

  "If I do that, Winlock is either going to claim I was guilty of suborning perjury-or at least is in a position to do so any time he chooses to lower the boom."

  "What will happen if you don't do it?" Della Street asked.

  "Then," Mason said, "Dianne is going to get bound over on a murder charge. She'll be in jail awaiting trial, she'll come up before a jury; by that time Mrs. Winlock will have withdrawn her offer and sworn she never made it. It will be the word of Dianne against a lot of circumstantial evidence and against the evidence of a man who has a great deal of influence in the community, George D. Winlock.

  "Then I'll spring a dramatic surprise that Winlock is the girl's father and is testifying against her to protect himself. I'll make a high-pressure plea to the jury-and in all probability they'll convict Dianne of manslaughter rather than murder. That's about the best I can hope to accomplish. That's the price of trying to be ethical. To hell with it."

  Della Street, realizing the nature of the crisis which confronted the lawyer, watched him in worried silence.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Judge Talent said, "This is the time heretofore fixed for resumption of the hearing in the case of the People of the State of California versus Dianne Alder. You were to let the Court know at this time whether you wish to put on a defense, Mr. Mason."

  Mason said, "If the Court please, this is not a simple matter. There are complications which I am not in a position to disclose but which nevertheless cause the defense some concern as to the best course to pursue."

  District Attorney Leland was on his feet. "If the Court please, the defense has had all the time they asked for and I object to granting any further time."

  "I am not asking for further time," Mason said, "but I would like to clarify one matter in regard to the time element. I would like to ask a few more questions on cross-examination of the witness, Steven Dillard."

  "Is there any objection?" Judge Talent asked Leland.

  "There is lots of objection, Your Honor. This man, Dillard, is actually a hostile witness. He is in the employ of defense counsel. He gave his testimony reluctantly and he gave it so that he shaded everything he could in favor of the defense. The cross-examination was completed, my case was closed, and I object to having counsel try these tactics of recalling a witness for further cross-examination. It's irregular."

  "The matter rests in the discretion of the Court," Judge Talent said. "Would you like to amplify your statement, Mr. Mason?"

  "I would, if the Court please. Dillard stated that the defendant was in the unit from nine o'clock to nIne-twelve. Yet the records will show that the police were notified at nine-thirteen, which would indicate that the manager of the motel must have been in there at least by nine-twelve. The manager of the motel, in turn, was notified by some woman over the telephone that-"

  "You don't need to go any further, Mr. Mason. The Court is interested in the proper administration of justice. Your request will be granted. Mr. Dillard, resume the stand, please."

  Dillard once more came to the stand.

  Mason said, "I would like to have you consult your notes in regard to the time element, Mr. Dillard. I would ask the district attorney for the notes which you state you kept at the time."

  The district attorney grudgingly passed over the notebook.

  Mason stood beside Dillard. "These figures are scrawls, rather than figures," he said. "How do you explain that?"

  "I was sitting there at the window and I took notes in the dark. I didn't want to turn on the light."

  "Now, you were also looking at your wrist watch in the dark in order to determine the time, were you not?"

  "My wrist watch has luminous hands."

  "Is there any chance you could have missed the time by five minutes?"

  "Certainly not. I could see the dial very clearly."

  "Could you have missed it by two minutes?"

  "No."

  "By one minute?"

  "Well, I'll put it this way, Mr. Mason. I couldn't see the second hand, but I could see the hour hand and the minute hand and I might-I just might-have made a mistake of half or three-quarters of a minute; I don't think as much as a full minute."

  Mason said, "If Dianne left that unit, got in her car, drove to a telephone, called the manager of the motel; if the manager of the motel had then gone down to the unit to look for herself and then returned and called the police, it is obvious that the police couldn't have received the call by nine-thirteen if Dianne had left the unit at nine-twelve."

  Dillard said nothing.

  "Now, I notice that while the other figures are in the nature of scrawls," Mason said, "the words "blonde enters cabin" with the license number of her automobile, TNM 148 and the hour 9:oo, are written very neatly. And the words, "blonde leaves unit" with the figure 9: 12 P.M. are also written very neatly. Can you explain that?"

  "Well, I… I guess perhaps I had moved over to where the light was better."

  "Then," Mason said, "you didn't write those figures down at the time the defendant left the cabin. Perhaps you wrote them down later."

  "No, I wrote them at about that time."

  "At about that time, or at that time?"

  "At that time."

  "Your Honor," Leland said, "this is no longer legitimate cross-examination. The question has been asked and answered, and counsel is now attempting to argue with the witness and browbeat him."

  Judge Talent said, "There is rather a peculiar situation here. May I ask counsel if it is the contention of the defense that the defendant actually was the person who put through the telephone call to the manager of the motel, suggesting that there was something wrong with the occupant of Unit io?"

  Mason said, "I feel that without jeopardizing the Interests of the defendant, I can answer that question by saying that it may appear the call was made by her or by someone else and the time element may be the determining factor."

  "She couldn't have made that call," Leland said. "It had to have been someone else, and counsel is trying to take advantage of this peculiar situation in the time element to give his client a chance to claim she made the call."

  Mason, studying the notebook which had been kept by Dillard, apparently paid no attention to the objection.

  "Mr. Mason," Judge Talent said, "an objection has been made. Do you wish to argue it?"

  "No, Your Honor."

  "I think the question has been asked and answered. I will sustain the objection."

  Mason turned to Dillard. "All right, I'll ask you another question which has not been asked and answered, Mr. Dillard. Isn't it a fact that you made this entry about the defendant entering the cabin with the license number of her automobile, and putting down the time that she left the cabin, before the defendant left the cabin? And while you were sitting at a desk under a reading lamp where you could write these figures neatly and concisely?"

  Dillard hesitated, then said, "No."

  "And isn't it a further fact," Mason said, "that you are notoriously hot-tempered; that after the man with dark glasses left Unit io, the decedent, Harrison T. Boring, who had caught you peeking through the parted curtain, came over to your unit, threatened you, and you lost your temper and hit him; that the blow knocked him down; that he hit his head on a stone and lay still; that you, realizing that you had seriously injured the man, picked him up, took him over to his own unit, opened the door, dropped him on the floor, poured whiskey over him, returned to your unit and while you were debating what you were going to do next, saw the defendant enter the unit rented by Boring; that you thereupon quit watching the unit, debating what you were going to do to save your own skin, that while you were debating the matter you heard the defendant's car start and heard her drive off; that while you were still debating what to do, you heard the police arrive; that you at a time somewhat later wrote a synthetic record of the defendant's visit, approximating the time of her arrival and estimating the time of her departure, and then called your superior, Sid Nye, and asked that he come to your assistance?"

  Leland got to his feet with a supercilious smile. "Oh, Your Honor," he said, "this is altogether too absurd. This…"

  The district attorney suddenly broke off at the expression on the judge's face. Judge Talent was leaning forward from the bench, looking down at Moose Dillard.