“But this witness tried to arrange those prints, Your Honour.”

  “So he did. I would be inclined to give you more latitude if it were not for the fact you already have photographs of those prints.”

  “Very well,” Mason said, “I accept the Court’s ruling. That concludes my cross-examination.”

  “Your next witness?” Judge Keetley said to Hamilton Burger.

  Hamilton Burger glanced at the courtroom clock. “It is drawing toward the time for adjournment.”

  “We still have some fifteen minutes left,” Judge Keetley said.

  “Very well,” Burger said. “Call Eric Hansell to the stand.”

  Eric Hansell, ushered into the courtroom by a bailiff, came forward, was sworn, and, obviously ill at ease, gave his name and address.

  “Are you acquainted with the defendant, Addison?” Burger asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you have occasion to talk with about the eleventh of the month?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What was said?”

  Hansell shifted his position uneasily.

  “Go ahead,” Burger snapped. “Tell what happened at that conversation.”

  “Time, place, persons present?” Mason asked.

  “Where was this conversation?” Burger asked.

  “At his office in the department store.”

  “Who was present?”

  “Just Addison and me.”

  “All right, what happened?”

  “Well,” Hansell said, “I was trying to get some information to pass on as a tip to a friend who was running a column in a newspaper. I asked Mr Addison about his picking up a young girl out on the highway Tuesday night and getting her a room in a hotel. Addison told me to see his lawyer.”

  “Did he name the lawyer?”

  “Yes, sir. Mr Perry Mason.”

  “And did you see Mr Mason?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “When?”

  “That same day.”

  “Where?”

  “At his office.”

  “And what did Mr Mason say to you at that time?”

  “Mr Mason told me his client didn’t want any publicity and gave me a two thousand dollar cheque which Mr Addison had signed.”

  “Do you want this Court to understand that Mr Addison gave you two thousand dollars in order to keep you from disclosing that he had been out on that section of the highway on Tuesday night?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Hamilton Burger’s grin was one of extreme self-satisfaction as he tossed the bombshell into Mason’s lap. “Cross-examine,” he said, and then added sarcastically, “If you want to.”

  Mason said calmly, “In other words, you went to see Mr Addison for the purpose of collecting blackmail, didn’t you?”

  The witness met Mason’s eyes. His manner was insolent. “Yes,” he said, “and if your client hadn’t been trying to cover up, why would he have paid me the two thousand bucks?”

  “Cover up what?” Mason asked.

  “You ought to know.”

  “I don’t. I’m asking you.”

  “Cover up the fact that he’d been playing around with a blonde cutie and that he’d been out on that road the night of the murder.”

  “Which fact do you think he was paying you two thousand dollars to cover up?”

  “Probably both.”

  “That’s what you thought?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you knew about the murder when you started blackmailing him?”

  Hansell suddenly averted his eyes.

  “Did you?” Mason persisted.

  “No!”

  “Then why did you say you thought he was paying you the two thousand dollars to cover up the fact that he was out on that road the night of the murder?”

  “That’s what I think now.”

  “But not what you thought then?”

  “No.”

  “At that time you didn’t know anything about the murder?”

  “Certainly not.”

  “You were trying to blackmail him simply because he had befriended a young woman?”

  “He got her a room in a hotel,” Hansell said, his eyes once more back on Mason’s.

  “And you made a bargain with the district attorney’s office by which you’d be granted immunity for the extortion in return for testifying in this case?”

  “I haven’t reached any bargain at all.”

  “But you do have that understanding?”

  “Well, I …”

  “We’ll stipulate that he does,” Hamilton Burger said. “Extortion is a mild crime compared with murder. The State is willing to overlook minor infractions of the law in order to get these men whose wealth, position and power give them the idea they can violate the laws of God and man with complete immunity.”

  “A nice speech,” Mason said, “but the fact remains that Hansell is being promised immunity.”

  “Yes,” Burger snapped.

  Mason turned to Hansell. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  “You asked me if I’d made a bargain with the Prosecution. I hadn’t. It was an agreement. It isn’t any bargain.”

  “Not for you?”

  “No.”

  “Is it for the Prosecution?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re rather technical in splitting hairs, aren’t you, Mr Hansell? You were quite willing to state that you had not made any bargain with the district attorney, when you knew all the time that you had made an agreement?”

  Hansell didn’t answer the question.

  Mason waited until Hansell raised his eyes once more.

  “Ever been convicted of a felony?” Mason asked.

  Hansell dropped his eyes again.

  “Come on,” Mason said, “answer the question. Have you ever been convicted of a felony?”

  “Yes.”

  “What was it?”

  “Blackmail.”

  “More than once?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right,” Mason said, “how many times have you been convicted?”

  “Four.”

  “Now then,” Mason said, “you had a woman accomplice with whom you worked in those cases, didn’t you?”

  “Objected to as incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial and not proper cross-examination,” Hamilton Burger said. “Counsel is given the right under the law to inquire into this man’s past only for one specific purpose, and that is to impeach his veracity by showing that he has been convicted of a felony. After that he cannot elaborate by throwing a lot of details and he can’t besmirch the witness’ reputation by dragging out all of the points involved in those other crimes. The law gives Counsel one privilege and one privilege only, and that is to ask whether a man has ever been convicted of a felony and that only for the purpose of impeaching his testimony.”

  “Isn’t that your understanding of the law, Mr Mason?” Judge Keetley asked.

  Mason made a little gesture of deference to the Court. “The purpose of my inquiry, Your Honour, was not to besmirch the reputation of this witness, but to find out who the feminine accomplice was that be used in connection with his other blackmailing schemes and see if the fingerprints of that feminine accomplice do not match the unidentified fingerprints of the mysterious woman found in the murder house.”

  And Mason sat down, smiling at the prosecutor.

  There was a buzzing of sound from the back of the courtroom, a sound which Judge Keetley silenced with his gavel.

  “Well,” Judge Keetley said, “I don’t feel that the question is in order. It could only tend to discredit the witness by showing collateral matters. I doubt if it is proper cross-examination.

  “However, it is the time for adjournment and Court will adjourn until tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. I will rule on the objection at that time. I am inclined to sustain it, however.

  “Court adjourned.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  After Judge Keetley had left the bench spectators formed in little groups, discussing the case. Newsmen crowded forward, tried to speak with Hamilton Burger, but he brushed them to one side and hurriedly left the courtroom.

  Mason, urbanely smiling, stood waiting to receive the reporters.

  “Come, come, gentlemen,” Mason said, “I can’t be expected to give away my entire case. The facts speak for themselves. You have seen the calibre of the Prosecution’s case, a case founded on the testimony of admitted blackmailers. There are the fingerprints of at least one mysterious woman in this murder house. There may be the prints of still another woman. Who are these women? Does the Prosecution know? Apparently not. Is the Prosecution willing to try and find out? You, gentlemen, will have to answer that question for yourselves.”

  Paul Drake, pushing his way through the crowd, grabbed Mason’s arm, said in a hoarse whisper, “Perry, we’ve got a break for you.”

  “What?”

  “We’ve located the woman you wanted.”

  “You mean Hansell’s partner?”

  “No, Laura Mae Dale. Veronica’s mother.”

  “Now,” Mason said triumphantly, “we’re getting somewhere.”

  Drake said, “My men found her in her restaurant in a little town in Indiana. She jumped at a chance to come out here by plane. Of course, my men put it on rather thick, that her daughter needed her and all that.”

  Mason nodded.

  “Anyhow, they grabbed a plane and are here. I didn’t want to interrupt you at the trial.”

  Mason raised his voice. “Oh, Addison,” he called, “just a minute. Bailiff, hold Mr Addison for a minute, will you?”

  The deputy sheriff who had been taking Addison back to jail paused at the door leading to the private corridor in which prisoners were transported back and forth to the courtroom.

  Mason, hurrying over, gripped Addison by the arm, pulled him to one side, whispered, “It’s okay, Addison, we’re beginning to get somewhere. At last we’ve got the breaks.”

  “What is it?” Addison asked hopefully.

  “I can’t tell you tonight, but have a good night’s sleep. I think things are going to start coming our way in the morning.”

  Mason thanked the deputy sheriff for waiting, hurried back to Paul Drake and said, “Okay, Paul, let’s get away from here. Now I want to get Della and her notebook and I want to get a written statement from this woman. I want her to repeat what she told me in my office, and I want to get her fingerprints and check them with the prints the police found in that house. Where is she?”

  “I have her in a hotel here.”

  “Any chance she’ll take a powder?”

  “She can’t,” Drake said. “I have two of my men on the job. I’ve told her we’re trying to get Veronica for her. Of course, that’s a stall and I hate to pull a line like that, but we have to keep her sewed up, at least for a while, and that’s the only way to do it.”

  Mason grinned, “Well, at least we can try. We’ll contact Hamilton Burger and tell him Veronica’s mother is staying with us and wants to see Veronica, and ask him if the daughter can come up to visit us.”

  “Burger will blow his top,” Drake said.

  “Of course,” Mason told him. “Then after a while he’ll get to thinking things over and realize that he passed up a bet. He’ll ring up and insist upon talking to Mrs Dale so he can tell her that if she’ll come to his office he’ll have Veronica there to meet her.”

  “You don’t think he’ll think of that the first time?”

  “Not the first time,” Mason said. “He’ll be too mad. Where do you have her, Paul?”

  Drake said, “I took a chance. I got her in the Rockaway Hotel. You see, her daughter was registered there and then checked out. It all ties in with the line I’m handing her about finding Veronica for her.”

  “You don’t need to hand that woman any line,” Mason said. “She’s a smart cookie and if she isn’t part of a blackmailing ring I’m a damn poor guesser. Let’s go give her the works.”

  Mason caught Della Street’s eye. “Be sure you have plenty of notebooks and pencils, Della. We’re going to take a statement from Laura Mae Dale. I’ll tell you the details later. Let’s go.”

  The three of them pushed through the exit door into the private corridor, caught the elevator and, in Drake’s car, rushed to the Rockaway Hotel.

  “Room 612,” Drake said.

  They went up and tapped on the door.

  A man opened the door a half-inch, said in a hoarse, belligerent voice, “What do you want?” Then, recognizing Paul Drake, opened the door and said, “Okay, boss, come on in.”

  Drake stood to one side. Della Street entered the room, followed by Perry Mason. Drake brought up the rear.

  The room they entered was the parlour of a two-room suite. The two detectives who were guarding the place were heavily muscled men who were thoroughly capable of taking care of themselves in any emergency.

  “Where is she?” Paul Drake asked, looking around the room.

  One of the men grinned, said, “She’s in the adjoining bedroom, lying down, resting. She isn’t even registered at the hotel, and, as far as anyone could tell from snooping around, that room isn’t even rented. The two of us are up in this room discussing a business deal, in case anyone asks questions.”

  Drake, instantly suspicious, said, “How do you know she’s still there? How do you know she can’t get out through the other door or down the fire escape, or …”

  “Keep your shirt on,” the spokesman for the two detectives said. “The door’s locked and we have the key. There’s a DO NOT DISTURB sign on the corridor side of the door. There isn’t any fire escape. She’s in there, all right. You want to talk with her?”

  Drake nodded.

  “We’ll get her.”

  “Just a minute,” Mason said. “I think it’ll be a little better if you simply announce there are visitors to see her and we three go in. It will make the party a little easier to handle than if she comes in here.”

  “Okay.”

  The man who seemed to be in charge nodded to the other, who tapped on a door to a communicating room and said, “You have some visitors, Mrs Dale.”

  The door opened. They heard a woman’s voice raised in a question. Then Drake’s operative said, “Oh, don’t worry about dressing up. They’re home folks. They’ll only stay a minute. Here they are.”

  He flung the door open and nodded.

  Della Street, entering the room first, suddenly stopped, looked questioningly back at Mason, then, catching herself, moved calmly on in as though nothing had happened. Mason, prepared to see the woman who had entered his office and told him about her daughter, fought to keep his surprise from showing on his face as he saw a slender, work worn woman in the late forties who smiled shyly at Della Street and said, “Hello, are you bringing me information about my daughter?”

  Mason, stepping forward, said, “My name is Mason. This is Paul Drake, a detective. We’re going to try and locate your daughter for you. As it happens, she’s a witness. I’m going to call the people who are holding her and see if they’ll let her come here.”

  Drake, somewhat nonplussed, said, “I thought you two knew each other. Haven’t you been in Mr Mason’s office?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Heavens to Betsy, I just this minute got into this town! I’m terribly anxious to see Veronica. I haven’t seen her for over a year. She sent me a post card from the Rockaway Hotel here, so I thought I’d come and …”

  “You haven’t seen her for over a year?” Mason asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “It’s a little town in Indiana. You wouldn’t recognize the name. I have a little restaurant and lunch counter there, nothing pretentious, just eight or ten tables and this lunch counter. It’s all nice, clean, home-cooked food.”

  “You’re Veronica’s mother?” Mason asked. “You’re not someone who has been run in as a ringer?”

  “What do you mean ‘run in as a ringer,’ Mr Mason?”

  “Nothing. Skip it. Tell us about Veronica.”

  “What do you want to know about her?”

  “How old is she, for one thing.”

  Mrs Dale frowned, said, “She’s eighteen, going on nineteen … no, wait a minute, the girl’s – why, bless me, the girl’s twenty. My heavens, how time flies!”

  “And you haven’t seen her for over a year?”

  “Right around a year. Perhaps a little over. Do you know if she’s all right, Mr Mason? I’ve been really worried about her. Something about this last time she left …”

  “She’s left you before?”

  “Heavens, yes, she’s a regular little vagabond. I suppose I’ve been expecting too much of her. The town is pretty small. There aren’t many young folks in it. I guess Veronica gets pretty lonely when she’s there; but she’s such a help to me in the restaurant, waiting on tables, and she’s always so cheerful and sunny. The customers like her and – well, when I had Veronica there just wasn’t any help problem at all.”

  “When was the first time she left?”

  “Let me see, that’s been three or four years ago.”

  “What did she do?”

  “She just up and left, and I didn’t hear from her for two or three months. I was terribly worried. I even notified the police. Then she showed up. She’d just been hitchhiking around. She said she’d had her fling and seen the country and now she was ready to settle down and work. Well, she did, but not for long. It wasn’t over three or four months before the old wanderlust got to gripping her again, and the first thing I knew she’d taken off.”

  “Alone?”

  “Alone,” Mrs Dale said. “Don’t misunderstand me about that. Veronica’s a good girl. She may have had a ride with someone when she started out, but that’s all it was, just a ride.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. I tell you, Veronica is a good girl that way. She’s just restless, just a wanderer at heart. She can’t stay in one place.

  “I don’t know as a body can blame her. Her father before her was that same way, always restless, always running around from one place to another, looking for some place where he could do what he called ‘carving out a career.’