“To discuss the matter with your superiors?” Farris said sharply.

  “Well, I wanted time to think it over.”

  “You realized that you should have reported this?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you didn’t do so?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I am paid to see that matters are handled smoothly. I didn’t want to hush this thing up. I wanted to see one of my friends on the police force and see if I could find some way of making a report that would not be publicized. I knew that if I reported to the police officers who were there with the body, there would be publicity, that the defendant would be picked up and lodged in jail, and I felt that—well, I felt that wasn’t the best way for a trouble shooter to handle an affair of that sort.”

  “So what did you finally do?”

  “I went back and helped Ted Balfour get undressed and into his pajamas. He wanted some more to drink and I didn’t stop him in the least. In fact, I encouraged him to drink, hoping that he might forget about the whole business.”

  “And then?”

  “And then I took from him the papers he had taken from the body and went home and went to bed.”

  “And then?” Farris asked.

  “And then I slept late the next morning. When I awakened I learned that police had already interrogated the defendant; that in some way they had learned his automobile had been involved in the matter; and that he was going to be prosecuted for an involuntary homicide with a car.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I did nothing.”

  Farris, with the manner of a television director who has brought his show to a conclusion right on the exact second, looked up at the clock and said, “Your Honor, it seems to be the hour for the noon adjournment. While I think I have now concluded my direct examination of this witness, it might be well to have the noon recess at this time, because I would like to go over the testimony in my mind and see if perhaps I have left out a question.”

  “Just a minute,” the judge said. “The Court has one question before we adjourn. Mr. Boles, you have stated you took those papers from the defendant?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What did you do with them?”

  “I held them for a while.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “To the best of my knowledge, they are in the possession of Mr. Perry Mason.”

  “What?” Judge Cadwell exclaimed, coming bolt upright on the bench.

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “You gave those papers to Perry Mason?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Has Mr. Mason communicated with the district attorney’s office in any way concerning those papers?” Judge Cadwell asked Roger Farris.

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “When did you give Mr. Mason those papers?” Judge Cadwell asked.

  “I don’t have the exact date. I gave them to him after he had become associated, that is, after he had taken over the defense of Ted Balfour. During the first case the attorney representing the defendant was Mortimer Dean Howland.”

  “You said nothing to Mr. Howland about those papers?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Did you say anything to anyone at any time about having those papers other than to Mr. Mason?”

  “No, sir.”

  “And you gave those papers to Mr. Mason?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Mr. Mason!” Judge Cadwell said.

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “The Court…” Judge Cadwell’s voice trailed off into silence. “The Court is about to take the noon recess,” he said. “Immediately after the discharge of the jury, I would like to have counsel for both sides approach the bench. The Court will admonish the jury not to form or express any opinion in this case until it is finally submitted to the jury for decision. The jurors will not discuss the case with others or permit it to be discussed in their presence. Court will now take a recess until two o’clock.

  “Mr. Mason and Mr. Farris, will you please come forward?”

  Mason and Farris approached the bench. Farris trying to keep his face in a mask of grave, judicial concern as befitted one who is called upon to be present at a time when a brother attorney is subjected to a tongue lashing. Judge Cadwell waited until the jurors had filed from the courtroom. Then he said, “Mr. Mason, is this true?”

  “I doubt it, Your Honor,” Mason said.

  “You what?” Judge Cadwell snapped.

  “I doubt it.”

  “I mean about the papers.”

  “Some papers were given to me, yes.”

  “By Mr. Boles?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “And did he tel! you those were papers that he had taken from the defendant or that had been given him by the defendant?”

  “No, sir.”

  “What were those papers?”

  “I have them here, Your Honor.”

  Mason produced a sealed Manila envelope and handed if to the judge.

  Judge Cadwell ripped open the envelope, started looking through the papers.

  “Mr. Mason,” he said, “this is a very grave matter.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “The papers in this envelope are matters of evidence. They constitute most important bits of evidence in the case.”

  “Evidence of what?” Mason asked.

  “Evidence corroborating Boles’ story, for one thing,” Judge Cadwell snapped.

  Mason said, “If Your Honor please, that’s like the man who tells about shooting a deer at three hundred yards and says that the deer fell right by a certain oak tree, that if you don’t believe him, he’ll point out the oak tree, because it’s still standing there and that will substantiate his story.”

  “You question Mr. Boles’ story?”

  “Very much,” Mason said.

  “But you certainly can’t question the fact that this evidence is most important evidence. This is evidence which should have been in the hands of the authorities.”

  “Evidence of what, Your Honor?”

  “Here is the driving license of Jackson Eagan.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Do you mean to say that is not important?”

  “I fail to see why,” Mason said.

  “That would serve as an identification. An attempt has been made by the police to have this corpse identified. So far no identification has been made other than a tentative identification of Jackson Eagan.”

  “But Jackson Eagan is dead,” Mason said. “He died two years before this case ever came up.”

  “How do you know he died?” Judge Cadwell said. “Here is a contract that was signed, apparently by the decedent, a contract for the rental of that automobile. Do you claim these matters are not important, Mr. Mason?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You certainly understand that they are matters of evidence?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “As an officer of this Court, as an attorney at law, it is your duty to submit any matter of evidence, any physical matter which you have in your possession to the authorities. To suppress willfully or conceal any evidence of this sort is not only a violation of law but is a violation of your duties as an attorney.”

  Mason met the judge’s eyes. “I’ll meet that charge, Your Honor, when it is properly made, at the proper time and at the proper place.”

  Judge Cadwell’s face turned a deep purple. “You are intimating that I have no right to bring this matter up?”

  “I am stating. Your Honor, that I will meet that charge at the proper time and in the proper place.”

  “I don’t know whether this constitutes a contempt of Court or not,” Judge Cadwell said, “but it certainly constitutes a breach of your professional duty.”

  “That’s Your Honor’s opinion,” Mason said. “If you wish to hold me for contempt I’ll get a writ of habeas corpus and meet the contempt charge. If you wish to cite me for unprofessional conduct, I will meet that charge at the proper time and in the proper place.

  “In the meantime, may I suggest to the Court that a defendant is on trial in this Court, that any intimation on the part of the Court that his counsel has been guilty of any breach of ethics might well be held against the defendant by the jury, and that it is the duty of the Court to refrain from expressing any opinion as to the action of counsel in this matter.”

  Judge Cadwell took a deep breath. “Mr. Mason,” he said, “I am going to do everything I can to see that the rights of the defendant are not prejudiced by the conduct of his counsel. However, I can assure you that, as far as this Court is concerned, I feel that you have forfeited the right to the respect of the Court. Quite apparently you, as an attorney, have endeavored to condone a felony and you have suppressed evidence. As far as the witness Boles is concerned, I assume that he has endeavored to make atonement by going to the authorities and telling his story, but apparently you have done nothing.”

  “I have done nothing,” Mason said, “except try to protect the rights of my client, and I’m going to try to protect them to the best of my ability.”

  “Well, you certainly have a different idea of the professional duties of an attorney than I do,” Judge Cadwell snapped. “That is all. Ill think the matter over during the noon adjournment. I may decide to take some action when Court has reconvened.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Perry Mason, Della Street, Marilyn Keith, and Paul Drake sat in a booth in the little restaurant where Mason usually ate lunch when he had a case in court.

  “Well,” Paul Drake asked, “just where does that leave us. Perry?”

  “Out on the end of a limb,” Mason admitted. “It’s perjury, and it’s the damnedest, most clever perjury I’ve ever encountered.”

  “He’s clever,” Marilyn Keith said, “frighteningly so, and he’s powerful.”

  Mason nodded. “He’s had legal training. He’s been a lobbyist. He doubtless knows every trick of cross-examination that I do. It’s his word against mine and he’s manufactured a story that seems to have all sorts of factual corroboration.”

  “What about his withholding evidence?” Drake asked.

  “Sure,” Mason said. “He admits it. So what? The district attorney won’t do a thing to him. He won’t even slap his wrists. He’ll tell him he should have surrendered the evidence to the district attorney’s office and not to do it again, but that’s ail.

  “The devil of it is,” Mason went on, “that it puts the defendant in such a hell of a position. It’s a clever story. It has aroused a certain amount of sympathy for Ted Balfour on the part of the jurors. If Ted goes on the stand and tells approximately that same story, says that he relied on the advice of the older man, some members on that jury are going to vote for acquittal. They’ll finally reach some kind of a compromise verdict.”

  “How good is your point about this once-in-jeopardy business?” Drake asked.

  “Damn good,” Mason said. “In the right kind of a case, the Supreme Court is pretty apt to go all the way.”

  “Well, it would make a terrific case,” Drake said, “if we could only get a little more evidence about the collector coming to call.”

  Mason said, “The worst of it is, the story sounds so plausible that I’m almost believing it myself.”

  “Is there anything you can do?” Marilyn Keith asked him.

  “I have one weapon,” Mason said. “It’s a powerful weapon. But sometimes it’s hard to wield it because you don’t know just where to grab hold of it.”

  “What weapon is that?” Della Street asked.

  “The truth,” Mason said.

  They ate for a while in silence.

  “You’ll cross-examine him?” Paul Drake asked.

  “I’ll cross-examine him. It won’t do any good.”

  “If his story had been true-well, what about it, Perry, what about concealing evidence?”

  “As I told Judge Cadwell, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” Mason said. “Right now I’m trying to think of the best way to protect young Balfour. Of course no matter what anyone says, that driving license of Jackson Eagan doesn’t prove a thing. It shows a thumbprint on the driving license and it’s not the thumbprint of the corpse.” Mason took from his pocket a set of ten fingerprints. “These are the fingerprints of the corpse. This is the thumbprint on the driving license of Jackson Eagan. You can see that they don’t compare at all.”

  “Jackson Eagan was buried,” Paul Drake said. “But no one really identified the body. The body had been shipped from Yucatan, Mexico. The story was that it had been identified down there by the widow.”

  “Just what were the circumstances?” Mason asked.

  “Eagan was a writer. He was on a trip getting local color. No one knows exactly how he died. Probably heart failure, or something of that sort. A party of archeologists stumbled on his body. They notified the authorities. The body was taken in to Merida in Yucatan, and the widow was notified by telegram. She flew down to identify the body and bring it home for the funeral. Naturally under the circumstances, the funeral was held with a closed coffin.”

  Mason said thoughtfully, “Just supposing the widow wanted her freedom and perhaps wanted to collect some insurance. It was quite a temptation for her to swear that the body was that of her husband.”

  “Of course we get back to that thumbprint,” Drake said, “but when you look at the signature on this contract to rent the car, the signatures certainly tally.”

  “They certainly seem to be the same signature,” Mason said. “Paul, how about the application for a driving license signed by Guthrie Balfour? Did you get that?”

  Drake said, “I wired for a certified copy of Guthrie Balfour’s last application for a driving license. It should be here any minute. I was hoping it would come in this morning. I feel certain that it must arrive in the late morning mail. One of my operatives will bring it up to court as soon as it comes in.”

  “I want it as soon as I can get it,” Mason said.

  “Do you have any plans for this afternoon’s session?” Drake asked.

  Mason shook his head, said, “Something like this catches you flatfooted. I had anticipated that they would try to make things tough for me, but I didn’t think I’d have someone get on the stand and commit deliberate perjury like that.

  “Paul, the number of that taxicab in which we took the ride was 647. I want to try and find the driver of the cab. I doubt if he’d remember anything that would be of help, but at least we can check. He should remember the occasion, even if he can’t identify Boles.”

  “I’ll have my men round him up,” Drake said.

  “Well,” Mason announced, “I’ll just have to go back there and take it on the chin. I’ve absorbed lots of punishment before and I guess I can take a little more.”

  “Of course you have the advantage of knowing what actually happened,” Della Street said. “Eagan was shot by Guthrie Balfour. He telephoned Florence Ingle and admitted that.”

  “Well, why not use that?” Marilyn Keith asked. “Why not just go ahead on that basis and—?”

  Mason smiled and shook his head. “No can do.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Guthrie Balfour told her over the telephone that he had killed this man. He said the killing was accidental, that the gun had gone off in a struggle.”

  “Can’t you use that?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because that’s hearsay. If we had Guthrie Balfour here, we could put him on the stand and question him, and, if he told a different story, we could then put Florence Ingle on the stand and impeach him by having Florence tell what he had said. But the law won’t let a witness simply testify to what someone else has said over the telephone.”

  “It let Banner Boles testify to what Ted said over the telephone!” Marilyn exclaimed indignantly.

  “Sure,” Mason said, “because Ted’s the defendant. You can always show any adverse statement that has been made by a defendant, but, unfortunately for us, Guthrie Balfour isn’t a defendant. The technical rules of evidence prevent us getting at what we want.”

  “And what does Guthrie Balfour say about it?” Marilyn asked.

  “Nobody knows,” Mason said. “Guthrie headed back to his base camp. How about your men? Any luck, Paul?”

  Drake shook his head, “Guthrie Balfour was in Chihuahua very briefly. He headed back for the Tarahumare country somewhere. He was only in Chihuahua long enough to telephone you and put his wife on a plane to come in and see you. Then he was off again. And my best guess, Perry, is that this expedition of his may have started out as a little areheological exploration, but it has now developed into a game of hide-and-seek. I don’t think he intends to have anybody catch up with him until after this case is all over. Of course, in justice to him, you have to remember that as far as he’s concerned it’s still only a hit-and-run case. He feels nothing very much can happen to Ted—a fine or a suspended sentence.”

  Mason signed the luncheon check, said, “Well, we may just as well go back and face the music. We may not like the tune but we’ll dance to it.”

  CHAPTER 19

  After Court had been reconvened at two o’clock, Roger Farris said, “I have no more questions of this witness. You may cross-examine, Mr. Mason.”

  Mason said, “Do you remember an occasion a short time ago when you telephoned me at my office, Mr. Boles?”

  “Perfectly,” Boles said affably.

  “You came up to my office and said you had something to tell me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And I asked you to talk to me in my office and you said you’d prefer not to do so?”

  “Yes, sir, that’s quite right.”

  “And we went out and rode around in a taxicab together?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You remember that, do you?”

  “Certainly, sir. I not only remember it, but I took the precaution of jotting down the number of the taxicab so that the driver could bear me out in case you tried to confuse me on cross-examination or tried to deny that I gave you these papers.”