“How long?”

  “Well, I don’t know. I don’t know how to answer that question. I was given the responsibility of seeing that purse was put in that signed envelope. I put it there personally. These gentlemen left it to me to do that, and I did it. I accepted that responsibility.”

  “After waiting for how long, Sheriff?”

  “I simply waited for the purse to dry.”

  “So all that the signatures on this envelope mean is that the men who were with you, at your suggestion, signed an empty envelope on the theory that they could in that way identify the purse when it was introduced in evidence, and left it to you to put the purse in the envelope, at a later date.”

  “Not at a later date, at a later time”

  “You don’t remember when it was?” Mason asked.

  “Not the exact hour, no.”

  “Do you remember the exact day?”

  The sheriff again shifted his position, said, “I’ve already answered that.”

  “And we’ll now consider the envelope containing the contents of the purse,” Mason said. “Apparently there are keys, cards, a compact, a cigarette lighter—and yet the signatures on the envelope arc perfect signatures. I presume the same holds true as to the signatures on this envelope.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “In other words, the men, at your suggestion, signed the empty envelope and you inserted the contents at a much later date.”

  “Not at a much later date, pretty soon afterwards.”

  “You yourself have said that the purse and the contents were placed in the different envelopes at the same time, and you have stated that the purse was placed in the envelope after it had been thoroughly dried.”

  “Well, the stuff was in my possession all the time. Nothing happened to it,” the sheriff said.

  “Where did you leave the purse?”

  “In my office.”

  “And you didn’t stay in your office till the purse dried?”

  “Well, I put it in front of an electric heater so it would dry out more rapidly.”

  “And how long did it take to dry out?”

  “I tell you I don’t know.”

  “But it may have been a day or two later when you put this purse in the envelope.”

  “If you’re going to be technical about it, I don’t know.”

  “Thank you,” Mason said, smiling. “I’m going to be technical about it.”

  “And now, Your Honor,” Mason said, turning to Judge Garey, “it appears that the whereabouts of this purse cannot adequately be explained, and that it is quite possible that the clipping could have been inserted among the contents of this envelope at any time during a two-day period while the purse was drying out. The Court will notice that there is no appreciable evidence of salt water on the clipping.”

  “The clipping was inside of a little case,” the sheriff said. “Sort of a compact arrangement.”

  Judge Garey frowned thoughtfully, said, “I don’t think there has been any attempt to mislead the Court, but it certainly must be apparent to the sheriff that having all of these signatures on this envelope is exceedingly misleading. It now appears the parties signed an empty envelope and then gave it into the custody of the sheriff with the understanding that the evidence would be placed in it. The Court is not prepared to rule on the admissibility of the purse at the present time, but will take the matter under advisement.

  “It is approaching the hour for adjournment, Mr. District Attorney, and … ”

  “I have just a few more questions of this witness.”

  “Very well.”

  Gloster’s manner had lost its triumphant assurance. He was on the defensive now and unquestionably angry about it.

  “What else did you do when you went aboard the defendant’s boat that night, Sheriff?”

  “I looked the place over.”

  “What did you find?”

  “I found a skirt that was soaking wet with salt water, and on the front of that skirt at a position where the right knee would be, in case a person wearing the skirt knelt over, I found a spot which still contained a little pinkish color.”

  “What did you do with that?”

  “I turned that over to a laboratory technician to determine whether or not it was blood.”

  “Now, then, Your Honor,” Gloster said, smiling, “I’m quite willing to have a recess taken.”

  “Very well,” Judge Garey said. “The Court will adjourn until ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

  Chapter 15

  Dorothy Fenner looked anxiously around for the matron. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said.

  “Just a minute,” Mason told her. “I want to ask you a question … Dorothy, look at me … Dorothy, turn around and look up here.”

  She hesitated a moment, then her lips began to twitch.

  “No, no,” Mason said, “you little fool. Don’t start crying. People are looking at you. Tell me, did you go down there? Did you … ”

  She lowered her eyes.

  Mason said, “Let’s pretend that we’re talking about some casual matter. Here.” He took a letter from his brief case, thrust it in front of her, and said, “Pretend to be reading this. Now tell me, did you go down there?”

  “I … I … ”

  Mason said, “If you start bawling now, with newspaper people and spectators watching you, you’re signing a one-way ticket to the death cell. Now tell me the truth. Did you go down there?”

  “Yes,” she said, almost in a whisper.

  “Keep talking. She said, “He was going to make a settlement. He made it sound so convincing … I went down there just like he told me to. I found the gate open just as he said it would be. I walked in, went around to the side entrance, entered the study and found him lying there on the floor in a big pool of blood. I ran over to him and spoke to him. He didn’t answer. I knelt down and felt his skin and then I knew he was dead. And just about that time I heard someone scream behind me.

  “I had enough presence of mind not to look around, so that person never did see my face. I simply dashed out through the French doors and out toward the landing wharf.

  “Then I knew I was trapped on the island. I could hear this woman behind me running, screaming back across the bridge to the mainland. I only had a matter of minutes and I worked fast. I remembered there was a Current interrupter which would shut off the burglar alarm at the landing float for about three minutes, in case Mr. Alder wanted to go out in one of the speedboats. So I pushed this current interrupter, ran out on the pier, and found a small boat tied up by a painter. I jumped in and cast loose the painter. When I jumped in I must have dropped my purse but I was too excited to realize it or know anything about it at the time.

  “I knew there was a big spot of blood on my skirt and it had soaked through to the stocking.

  “I rowed out into the bay, then just before I got to my yacht I stood up and slipped the skirt off and scrubbed the spot out of it as best I could. Then I boarded my yacht, hurriedly changed into dungarees, jumped into the boat, rowed ashore, shipped the oars and kicked the boat loose. Then I walked to the bus terminal and got aboard a bus. It wasn’t until I got started to town that I realized that I’d lost my purse. However, I always carry a spare key to my apartment and a dollar bill in the top of my stocking. That’s mad money. So I managed to get home all right.”

  “Anyone see you come in?” Mason asked.

  She said, “I was frightened. I went around through the back entrance down to the trunk room and went up to my apartment that way. There’s not a soul in the world can prove that I wasn’t in that apartment.”

  Mason said angrily, “In addition to being a poor liar, you’re a little fool. Why did you lie to me?”

  “Honestly, Mr. Mason,” she said, “I feel terribly about this. I wouldn’t let you down for anything in the world. Well, I felt absolutely certain I could get away with it and that no one would ever know—and then I felt if you were going to have to defend me you could do a better job if you … well, I thought it would perhaps rob you of some of your assurance if … ”

  Mason interrupted, “I asked you repeatedly if you had left your apartment and every time you assured me that … ”

  “I know. Honestly, Mr. Mason, if I had had any idea I dropped that purse where it could have been found … I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry,” Mason said indignantly. “Why you little … ”

  The lawyer took a deep breath, said more calmly, “People are watching us. Nod your head as though the contents of that letter were just what you expected.”

  She nodded her head.

  Mason smilingly returned the letter to his brief case, patted her encouragingly on the back, said under his breath, “Well, you’re in it now, and you’ve got me in it too.”

  “I tell you he was dead when I got there,” she said. “I ..

  “You’ve already told enough lies,” Mason observed smilingly. “Go back to your cell and keep your mouth shut. I’ll try and salvage something from the wreckage, because I’m in a spot where I have to. You have me in this right along with you. No wonder Claud Gloster has been triumphant! I suppose he’s even got a witness who saw you on the bus going back to town.”

  Mason stood up, smiling confidently, picked up his brief case, motioned to Paul Drake and Della Street.

  “Keep smiling,” he said, as he walked out of the courtroom.

  Newspaper reporters pressed him for a statement. Here and there spectators pushed forward to ask questions. Mason smilingly brushed them all to one side.

  In the privacy of his automobile Paul Drake said, “Gosh, Perry, you sure got the sheriff mixed up on those signatures, but that purse business looks pretty bad. Do you suppose she actually did go down there and double-crossed you?”

  “She double-crossed everyone, including herself,” Mason said angrily. “She went down there.”

  “Good lord!” Della Street exclaimed.

  “Now then,” Mason said, “we have between now and ten o’clock tomorrow morning to try and get out of this.”

  “What can you do?” Paul Drake asked.

  Mason said, “I don’t know. They’ve hit us two body blows. The one which indicates that Dorothy Fenner was down there on the day of the murder is bad enough, but the other one is a stem winder.”

  “You mean that newspaper clipping?”

  “That newspaper clipping. That contains an account of Alder having filed a complaint alleging that Dorothy Fenner broke into his place, stole fifty thousand dollars worth of jewels, that she jumped in the water when she was pursued by the dog, and that a male accomplice was waiting for her in a canoe.

  “The jury will, of course, be instructed to consider the newspaper clipping only for the purpose of showing the date at which the purse was dropped. But you know what a jury will do. They’ll eat that stuff up.”

  “Well, can’t you show that … ”

  “The hell of it is, I can’t,” Mason said. “My hands are tied. I had been thinking all along that Claud Gloster would introduce that letter contained in the bottle which the police must have found when they went through George Alder’s effects. I thought that he’d try to introduce the evidence of the burglary, claim that it was all part of the res gestae and, as his motive, claim that

  Dorothy Fenner had gone back there to try and get that letter.

  “I was then prepared to crucify him by showing that Dorothy Fenner didn’t need to go back to get the letter because she’d already made a copy of it, and that Dorley Alder had seen a copy of the letter before the murder was committed. That would knock the props out of the prosecution’s motivation. Then I intended to drag enough evidence in about the death of Minerva Danby to make it appear that Alder was a murderer and had got just what was coming to him, and kick the prosecution’s case all over the courtroom, and then out the window.

  “Now, then, you can see what’s happened. They’re not going to bring that letter in. They’ll even try and keep it out. It’s up to me to try and bring it in, and they’re going to claim that in place of being part of the res gestae, the letter is hearsay, incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial.”

  “Well, isn’t it?” Drake asked.

  “In all probability it is,” Mason said, “but I’ve got to dig up some theory by which I can at least try to get the thing before the court. And we don’t know where the original letter is.”

  “You have a copy,” Della Street said.

  “I have a copy,” Mason told her, “but we’re going to have to get it authenticated. The only way to do that is to go down and see this man who found it, Pete Cadiz.”

  “I know where we can locate him,” Drake said.

  “I’ve been afraid to go near him before,” Mason said, “because I didn’t dare to let on to the prosecution that I knew about this letter. I wanted to let them think I was going to try to keep that letter out and … Gosh, what a mess!”

  “Well,” Drake said, “you can’t be blamed for it, Perry.”

  Mason said fervently, “If that little devil could get on the witness stand and lie one half as convincingly to the jury as she lied to me—but she won’t and she can’t. She’ll go all to pieces and start bawling and having hysterics. I know the type. When she thinks everything is coming her way she can be dead game, but the minute the going gets tough she starts crying and seeking sympathy.

  “I should have known better, but the way she looked me right in the eyes and swore by all that was holy that she’d been in her apartment all the evening, the way she accounted for her time, and—and now to have the whole thing blow up in my face, right in the middle of a jury trial.”

  “Do you suppose she is guilty?” Della Street asked.

  “I can’t even answer that question until after the evidence is all in,” Mason said. “I wouldn’t trust her word now on anything, and the hell of it is that I’m stuck with defending her.”

  “I don’t see why you’re stuck with her,” Della Street said. “After all, you … ”

  “After all,” Mason interrupted, “I was the sucker who picked her up in the canoe Saturday night right after her escapade, and I’m afraid that Claud Gloster not only suspects it, but may have some evidence. It’s been rumored around the courthouse that he’s been bragging about having all thirteen trumps. We’ll go see what Pete Cadiz has to say.”

  Drake said, “She could be telling the truth, Perry. But if she isn’t, I think she could make out some sort of a case for self-defense.

  “There must have been one hell of a fight before Alder was bumped off. It wasn’t simply a matter of somebody grabbing the gun from his desk and shooting him.

  “One of my men got there and saw the scratches on the inside of that paneled closet door. He said you could see where the dog had been in a perfect frenzy, trying to get out. The scratches were all so fresh that there were still little splinters hanging to the places where the claw marks cut across the panels.”

  Mason said thoughtfully, “I’ve tried to figure out what happened, Paul. A man must have done the job, or else some woman who was struggling. There must have been a real knock-down, drag-out fight and then while they were struggling, this person grabbed the revolver. Of course, Dorothy Fenner could be telling the truth now, but after my experience with her, I’m afraid to trust her.”

  “Well, whatever happened,” Drake said positively, “I’m betting there was a long-drawn-out struggle. The dog had that door scratched to pieces.”

  Mason said, “We’ll file that fact away for future reference. The way things are now I don’t dare to plan a defense until I see what further surprises the prosecution may have for us. From now on I’ll listen to the evidence as it comes in. Then I’ll have to wind up knowing just how that crime was committed—and make everyone think I knew it before I consented to take Dorothy Fenner’s case.”

  Chapter 16

  The sunset hush had settled like a mantle over the still water as Mason, Della Street, and Paul Drake walked out over the echoing planks, studying the forest of stubby masts which from time to time swayed gently in the little swells made by the passing of an occasional speedboat.

  From somewhere in the distance came the sound of an accordion, and a cracked baritone voice singing a sentimental ballad of a bygone era. Then the singing ceased, but the accordion played on.

  “I think,” Drake said, “that’s our man. He’s supposed to spend an hour or so every night playing over some of the old tunes. The story goes that he was very much in love with a girl who died, and now lie lives alone, true to her memory and playing the songs he sang while he was courting her. If you serve that subpoena on him, Perry, think of what a sob sister could do with the story. That’s your angle for getting the stuff about the bottled letter into the press.”“I don’t want it in the press,” Mason said, “I want it in evidence—and the way I feel about my client right now I wouldn’t doubt but what she did grab off some jewelry on that Saturday night … Well, we’ll have to wait and see what other unpleasant surprises Claud Gloster has in store for us.”

  They walked along the long pier until finally they made out the form of a grizzled seaman, sitting in the bow of a trim fishing boat, playing the accordion, his face, granite hard from wind and salt spray, etched with deep lines.

  Della Street put a restraining hand on Mason’s arm, whispered, “Wait until he finishes.”

  Drake turned, caught her eye, and she gently shook her head.

  The three of them stood in the lee of a weather-beaten shed all but invisible in the shadows, watching the dim figure of the man in the boat below, listening to old tunes which had been popular forty years ago.

  At length the number was finished. The man eased his accordion to his lap, raised his head, and looked out toward the West where the last tint of color was fading, leaving an evening star in sole possession of the sky; an evening star so bright that the reflection of it made a shimmering thread of gold in the water.

  The man heard their steps as they moved forward, looked up and watched them curiously.

  Mason, in the lead, introduced himself and his companions.