“Then there’s this other thought you brought up that the money might have been his wife’s,” Drake said.

  “Well, I don’t figure that angle so strong right now,” Mason told him, as the operative pulled in to the curb and said, “Here’s a telephone, Mr. Mason.”

  Mason telephoned the hotel, only to learn that Della Street was still absent. He walked back to the automobile, frowning. “I don’t like it, Paul,” he said. “Della’s still out.”

  “Maybe she went to get her hair done,” Drake suggested.

  “Not that girl,” Mason told him. “When she works on a case she’s like I am, working day and night, grabbing a bite to eat when she can get it. She’s doing something on this case.”

  “I wonder if that piece of blue silk cloth has anything to do with it,” Drake asked.

  “Now that’s a thought,” Mason said.

  “Maybe she’s remembered who wore the gown,” Drake suggested.

  “Perhaps,” Mason said, still frowning, “but it’s entirely unlike Della to have left the hotel without letting me know, and making certain it didn’t interfere with any of my plans. It’s equally unlike her not to have telephoned in a report. And I can’t understand what’s keeping her so long.”

  “Oh, well, one thing at a time,” Drake told him. “Let’s tackle this place up in the Santa Cruz Mountains.”

  “Think we can locate Morgan Eves once we get up there?”

  “Sure,” Drake said. “It’s just a little post office, general store and cabin proposition. It won’t be any trouble at all.”

  The rain had ceased by the time Drake’s operative pulled the car to a stop and entered the general store and post office. Clouds which had been drab and gray had broken into patches of dazzling white, between which showed the deep blue of a clear California sky. Huge redwoods glistened with moisture as shafts of sunlight streamed through the clouds.

  Drake’s operative came out of the store, climbed in behind the wheel and said, “Follow this road half a mile, take the first turn to the left, and it’s the first cabin on the left.”

  As they traveled over the dirt road, bits of wet gravel thrown up by the tires clattered against the mud guards. Drake said, “Perry, this is once you do all the talking. I do all the listening. Remember not to take any chances with this chap. He packs a rod and is dangerous.”

  Mason nodded.

  The driver slowed down, cautiously turned the car, shifted gears and said, “This must be the place.”

  They inspected a rustic cabin under the trees, slabs of bark covering the outside.

  “There’s a fire in the fireplace,” Drake said, indicating a stream of light blue smoke which drifted upward from the chimney. “Someone’s home.”

  “All right,” Mason said, “let’s go.”

  “You got a rod?” Drake asked the operative, and when the man nodded, said, “Well, after we go in you move over toward the wall as though you were trying to keep yourself in the background. Be sure you’re where no one can stick a gun in your back. All right, Perry, here we go.”

  Evelyn Whiting opened the door in response to Mason’s knock. Her face showed surprise and dismay. “Why …” she said. “Why, you’re Mr. Mason, the lawyer.”

  Mason nodded and said, “Do you mind if we come in, Miss Whiting? We want to talk with you.”

  She hesitated for a perceptible instant, then held the door open and stood to one side. The three men filed into the cabin.

  “You’re alone here?” Mason asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I wanted to talk with a Mr. Eves.”

  “Well, he isn’t here.”

  “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” Mason said, seating himself in a chair, “but there’s some information you can give me, and I want it.”

  “I don’t know a thing—”

  “Let’s go back and begin at the beginning,” Mason said. “You knew Carl Moar, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve known him for some time?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long since you’d seen him?”

  “Do you mean before I left Honolulu?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s been years. I hadn’t seen him since he was married.”

  “And you saw him on the ship?”

  “Yes.”

  “I rather gathered that he was trying to avoid you,” Mason said.

  “I think he was, at first. However, I happened to run into him on the promenade deck Sunday morning.”

  Mason said, “I’m going to put my cards on the table, Miss Whiting. I’ve been investigating you because I think you may be a very material witness for me. I know all about your marriage, about your going to Honolulu on your honeymoon.”

  “It wasn’t my honeymoon,” she said—”that is, it was and it wasn’t.”

  “Just why did you go?” Mason asked.

  “I started to Honolulu with my husband,” she said, “but before we’d left the bay a speed launch came alongside the ship. My husband had to go back. They lowered a rope ladder. He went down the side. I couldn’t have gone down that ladder even if I’d wanted to. I was never so bitterly disappointed in my life. He told me to go on to Honolulu and he’d follow on a clipper plane.”

  “Did he?” Mason asked.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t think that concerns you in the least,” she said.

  “And you came back without letting your sister know?”

  “Yes. I had a chance to nurse Mr. Cartman. He was injured in an automobile accident and wanted to go to the Mainland. They needed a trained nurse who could be with him. It was a good chance for me to come back, so I did.”

  “And you didn’t let anyone know you were coming back?”

  “No.”

  “Not only that, but you took particular pains to see that your sister thought you were still over there. You left letters to be mailed on the Clipper so that—”

  “How did you know about that?” she interrupted.

  “We’ve talked with your sister,” Mason said. “In fact, we’ve made rather a complete investigation, Mrs. Eves.”

  She started to say something, checked herself, bit her lip, looked at the floor and said, “I’d rather you’d wait until my husband comes before I tell you anything.”

  “Oh, then, your husband is due to return?” Mason asked.

  “Well … that is … I …”

  She broke off and was silent. Drake and Mason exchanged glances. Mason said, “I think you understand why I’m asking you these questions, Mrs. Eves. I’m representing Mrs. Moar.”

  She nodded.

  “Aside from the fact that I’m Mrs. Moar’s attorney, I have no interest in the matter whatsoever. I’m not concerned in the least in any of your private affairs. I’ll respect your confidence.”

  She blinked her eyes thoughtfully, then suddenly reached a decision and said, “All right, Mr. Mason, I’ll tell you the truth. I was married once before. That marriage didn’t jell. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant experience. It left me rather suspicious of men. Since then I’ve known a few married men. What I’ve seen of them hasn’t made me care to play the rôle of wife who sits at home while her husband’s playing around. After I got over to Honolulu I kept thinking about the way Morgan had put me aboard the ship while he suddenly went back, and I thought perhaps … well, I thought perhaps there was another woman. I wanted to come back and find out, but I didn’t have the money, for one thing, and I didn’t have any legitimate excuse for another. Then, Mr. Cartman, who had been hurt in an automobile wreck, and who had to wear a steel brace for months, wanted to come home. I had been in touch with some of the nurses in the hospital. They knew how I felt. They told me this would be a fine chance for me to make a surprise trip to the Mainland. I could get enough out of it to pay my round trip passage, and, in addition to make a little pocket money. So I decided to go. But, naturally, I didn’t want Morgan to know I was coming, so I wrote letters to him and left them to be mailed on the Clipper after I’d sailed. And because I thought perhaps Morgan might get in touch with Marian, I did the same with her. Now then, that’s all there is to it.”

  “And what did you do when you came here?” Mason asked.

  “I got in touch with Morgan, naturally. I went right to his flat. I thought perhaps he’d have some other woman there. Well …”

  She broke off as the sound of a speeding automobile motor became audible. They listened while the machine roared into a turn at the foot of a hill, heard the driver shift gears, and then the tires slid over the gravel as the machine was braked to an abrupt stop. A moment later, there was a pound of steps on the porch, and a man flung open the door of the cabin. Mason recognized him at once, from the photograph he had seen, as Morgan Eves.

  “All right,” the man said, standing in the doorway, his hand hovering near the left lapel of his coat, “what is this, a pinch?”

  Mason said, “Take it easy, Eves. I’m Perry Mason, the lawyer.”

  “That’s what you say,” Eves said.

  “He is, Morgan,” Evelyn Whiting assured him. “He was on the boat with me coming over. Remember, I told you.”

  Eves nodded without shifting his position. “All right,” he said, “so what?”

  “We’re asking questions,” Mason said.

  “Well, you’re not going to get any answers. And you,” he said, shifting his eyes toward Drake’s operative, “be careful what you do with that right hand. If you pull that rod, you’re going to have to smoke your way out.”

  In the moment of tense silence which followed, Perry Mason extracted his cigarette case, leisurely selected a cigarette, tapped the end on the side of the cigarette case, and said, “Let’s talk sense, Eves.”

  “All right,” Eves said, “you do the talking.”

  Mason snapped a match into flame, lit his cigarette and said, “Thanks,” when Evelyn Whiting handed him an ash tray. He settled back comfortably in the chair and said, “I’m a lawyer, Eves. I’m representing Mrs. Moar. The D.A. is trying to frame a first-degree on her. Your wife was on the ship coming over, nursing a chap with a broken neck. She knew Moar before he was married. Moar was on the ship under the name of Newberry. I had a hunch she might know something which would help me, so I came out and asked her.”

  “All right,” Eves said, in a flat monotone. “You asked her. What did she say?”

  Mason glanced inquiringly at the nurse. She nodded imperceptibly. Mason said, “Before I came out here I looked her up. I knew you’d been married and had sailed for Honolulu on your honeymoon. She told me you were called off the ship and she went over by herself. She got lonesome, so when she had a chance to come over and join you, and make a little money on the side, she did it.”

  Eves laughed bitterly and said, “Lonesome, hell! She came over to check up on me. She thought I was two-timing her.”

  “That’s all right with me,” Mason told him. “You can straighten out your domestic affairs without my help. I’m interested in protecting my client.”

  “What else did you tell him, Evelyn?” Eves asked.

  “Nothing else,” she said. “That’s all there is to tell, isn’t it?”

  Eves thought for a minute. Then he walked forward to sit down in a chair. He lit a cigarette, studied Mason thoughtfully and said, “Okay, Mason, I’m for a good mouthpiece myself. I’ll give you a break. We can do a hell of a good turn for you any time you say the word.”

  “I’m saying the word,” Mason told him.

  “With what? Money, marbles or chalk?”

  Mason said, “I don’t buy testimony, Eves.”

  “Well, why the hell should we come into court and get panned by the newspapers just in order to help you?”

  “Probably,” Mason said, “because it’s the right thing to do. I understand you’ve been up on a murder rap yourself. You know what it feels like.”

  “Who was telling you?” Eves asked savagely.

  “A little bird,” Mason said.

  Eves smoked in thoughtful silence for several seconds, then said, “Okay, Mason, I’ll shoot square with you. I’d told Evelyn to keep out of it, but I’ll give you a break. Here’s the dope: Evelyn knew Moar before he was married. She spotted him on the ship. Moar gave her the office to keep quiet until he could see her. He waited for her on deck Sunday. He told her he was dough-heavy, but the money was hot and that the bulls were going to pinch him on an embezzlement charge he hadn’t committed, but before he got done beating that rap they’d find out something he had done which was just as bad. He said he was crazy about Belle and he was going to give the dough to his wife and take a powder.”

  “Did he say what he was going to do?”

  “He was despondent,” Eves said, “so low he could walk under a snake’s belly on stilts. He said he was going to give himself the works if he had to.”

  Mason strove to keep excitement from his voice. “You know,” he said, “that’ll rip the murder case wide open, Eves.”

  “I’m not so certain,” Eves said. “That’s what Moar intended to do. His wife didn’t know he intended to do it. She wanted him out of the way. He went up on deck to do a Brodie, and she came along and gave him the works first.”

  Mason shook his head. “You’re all wet, Eves.”

  Eves said, “I may be all wet, but I’m telling you what happened. That’s the God’s truth.”

  “How do you know?” Mason asked.

  “I’ve put two and two together. Don’t forget that Fell woman saw the whole business.”

  “I don’t think she saw as much as she thinks she did,” Mason said. “Your wife’s testimony will put my client in the clear. The question is, do I get it?”

  Eves said, “You get it. But I’ll tell you something else. You’re going to run into a surprise on this case, and they’re going to convict your client. I’m giving it to you straight. He would have croaked himself if his wife had let him alone, but she beat him to the punch.”

  “I’ll take my chance on that,” Mason said.

  “You’re going to run up against some surprise testimony,” Eves insisted.

  “What testimony?” Mason asked.

  Eves glanced across at his wife. “Think we’d better tell him?” he asked.

  She shook her head and said, “Not if he doesn’t know.”

  “Okay,” Eves said, “you don’t know, so we don’t tell you.”

  “You tell your story on the witness stand,” Mason said to the nurse, “and I’ll guarantee no jury is ever going to convict Mrs. Moar, no matter how much surprise testimony they bring in.”

  “You don’t know what this surprise testimony is,” Eves said.

  “That’s right, I don’t, do I?” Mason grinned.

  “How about it?” Eves asked his wife.

  She shook her head.

  Eves said, “All right, that’s twice I got the red signal. We’ll quit talking about it.”

  Mason said, “There are a couple of things I want to clean up. Did you send a note to Moar telling him to come on deck?”

  “Me?” Evelyn asked.

  Mason nodded.

  “Good heavens, no,” she said. “I did leave an envelope on the purser’s desk. I was paying the chits I’d signed on shipboard.”

  “That’s probably it,” Mason said. “One of the room stewards saw you leaving an envelope. So much for that. Now, how about the patient you brought over with you? What happened to him?”

  She flashed Eves a swift glance.

  Eves said, “He doesn’t enter into it. He didn’t hear the conversation. He had a broken neck and paid Evelyn for bringing him over. She ran into a little trouble. He wanted to hold out some of the money, but she brought him up to my place. His relatives were to come up there and get him. I sent Evelyn up here so it wouldn’t cramp my style. After the cheap chiselers saw they were dealing with someone who knew the ropes they didn’t make any more trouble. They paid up nice and sweet.”

  “Where’s Cartman now?” Mason asked.

  “I don’t know,” Eves said, “and what’s more I don’t give a damn. His friends took him. I do know they’d never have moved him if they hadn’t kicked through and lived up to the agreement they made with Evelyn.”

  Mason took a folded, blank subpoena from his pocket. “All right,” he said, “I’m going to subpoena you. How do you want the supoena made—to Evelyn Whiting or Evelyn Eves?”

  “Better make it Evelyn Whiting,” Eves said. “My interlocutory ain’t final yet. I suppose they could punch the marriage full of holes if they wanted to, and the D.A.’d probably like to get something on me. It’ll help your case a lot more if I don’t enter into it. I’ve got a record a yard and a half long, in case you don’t know it.”

  “I know it,” Mason said.

  “Okay,” Eves told him. “Remember this, Mason, we could have closed up on you like a clam and you’d have been out on the end of a limb. I’m giving you a break. Don’t forget it.”

  Mason filled in the subpoena.

  “And don’t think this is going to be a downhill pull,” Eves said. “If the D.A. uses his head you’re up against the toughest proposition you ever tackled.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” Mason told him. “I’ll take a chance. Evelyn Whiting, you’re subpoenaed to appear tomorrow morning at ten o’clock A.M., or as soon thereafter as Counsel can be heard, as a witness for the Defense in the preliminary hearing in the case of the People of the State of California vs. Anna Moar.”

  “Okay,” Eves said. “That’s all in due and regular form. Now you guys get to hell out of here. I’m on my honeymoon.”

  Chapter 12

  As Mason entered the lobby of the hotel, he said to Paul Drake, “Paul, I’ve been doing a little thinking. I’m uneasy about this Eves business.”

  “Why?” Drake asked. “Eves is a crook. He respects you because you’re a mouthpiece. He’ll go the limit for you. Moar’s statement to Evelyn Whiting gives you everything you need in front of a jury. Even if his wife did beat the gun and bump him off, you’re never going to get a jury to bring in a verdict against her—not after Evelyn Whiting tells her story.”