"That's right," Della said to Mason. "He is just like Homan. He wants to concentrate. All the time we were dancing, he was trying to pump me about ..." She stopped suddenly.

  "About what?" Tragg asked.

  She smiled mockingly up at him. "About whether the boss could put cocktails on an expense account," she said, and, swaying slightly with the rhythm of the dance music, let Tragg take her in his arms.

  Mason glanced at Drake. "Pumping her about what, Paul?"

  "The little brat," Drake said. "I should have known she would have passed it on to you."

  "What?"

  "Trying to find out whether she was responsible for that telephone call you got while Tragg was eating and sent you dashing out of the office."

  "Why?" Mason asked.

  "Oh, I don't know. I just thought that was pretty damned important, or you wouldn't have left. I somehow can't see you jeopardizing your appointment with the Greeley woman to run out to have a talk with this girl Horty."

  "Now, wait a minute," Mason said, his face suddenly hard. "You told Della I went out?"

  "Yes."

  "And asked her if she knew where?"

  "Well, not exactly that. I was trying to find out..."

  "Now did you tell her not to mention that to Tragg?"

  "What?"

  "About my having gone out."

  Drake's face showed sudden dismay. "Gosh, no, I didn't."

  "And were you asking her seriously or just kidding along?"

  "Just kidding along, Perry. It gave me something to talk about, and ... Gosh, if she should let it out to Tragg..."

  Mason said, "Tragg is nobody's damn fool. It wasn't raining when he came in. It started to rain right afterward. I was in taxicabs most of the way, but I had to cross a street and some raindrops spattered on my gray hat. When I took my hat out of the closet, Tragg happened to notice those damp spots. They had soaked in so they were almost invisible. You have to hand it to him for being a damn good detective, Paul. He noticed those spots, realized what they meant – and didn't say a word. What was the meaning of those silly antics of his in the corridor? Did he pick up anything?"

  Drake said, "I don't know. I was watching you two! Gosh, I am sorry, Perry."

  Mason frowned down at the tablecloth. "I would like to work with Tragg," he said, "but he is pretty fast on his feet, and after all, he is on the opposite side of the fence. Some of my methods wouldn't meet with his approval."

  "What happened while you were gone?" Drake asked.

  Mason said, "I went to Hortense Zitkousky's house, found her pretty high, prescribed coffee, and came back."

  "Nuts," Drake said. "When you came back, you had that grim line around the corners of your mouth that – dammit, Perry, you are a gambler."

  "Of course, I am a gambler."

  "You gamble for the sheer joy of risking terrific odds against your ideas of justice."

  "Well, what of it?"

  "Someday you are going to break through that thin ice you skate on."

  "Well?"

  "And when you do," Drake said, "you are going to take me with you."

  "I haven't yet," Mason said.

  "No. You haven't yet because you keep moving so damn fast, but ..."

  "Forget it," Mason interrupted. "They are coming back."

  "What is the matter?" Mason asked.

  Della Street said, "The floor is getting too crowded, and I am getting too famished to do any more dancing until after I have had some good thick steak with mushroom sauce. Did you order mine medium rare, Chief?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "Mine?" Drake asked.

  "Well done."

  "How did you know?"

  Mason said, "First and last, Paul, I have bought you enough steaks so that I should know."

  "You mean your clients have. I ..."

  A bus boy approached the table, motioned to Lt. Tragg. "Telephone, Lieutenant," he said.

  "Excuse me." Tragg pushed back his chair.

  Mason glanced across at Della Street.

  "Trying to pump me," she said tersely. "Paul was, too. I didn't mind him. He is harmless, but Tragg was deadly."

  "What did he want to know?"

  "Where you went while I was out."

  "What did you tell him?"

  "I asked him how I would know you had been out when I wasn't there."

  "Didn't say anything about Paul Drake asking you the same question?" Mason asked.

  She said, "Don't be silly. Then he would know you had gone out. As it is, he only surmised it from seeing the raindrops on your hat-brim."

  Drake heaved a sigh. "Good girl," he said. "Gosh, I was worried over that."

  "What's in the wind?" Della Street asked.

  Mason said, "Nothing, only we are gradually closing the net."

  "Did Homan kill Greeley?"

  "That," Mason said, "is going to keep for a while. What I am concerned with right now is finding out how I can prove that Adler Greeley was operating that automobile as Homan's agent and in accordance with specific instructions by Homan. Then Tragg will have enough to force him to go after Homan."

  "Why?" Drake asked. "If you can prove that she wasn't driving the car, that lets you out, doesn't it?"

  Mason said, "Homan has been so willing to let her take the rap that I want to see him get his. And it would be a good thing for her to stick him for damages. She might be able to use the money."

  Drake gave a low whistle.

  "There is no question but that it was Greeley who was driving the automobile?" Della Street asked.

  "Not unless someone planted a smeared shirt in his soiled-linen bag," Drake said and looked significantly at Mason.

  Mason shook his head. "Don't blame that on me."

  "You would have done it though," Drake charged. "And that red mouth print looked like Della's lips."

  The waiter appeared with seafood cocktails, said deferentially to Mason, "And I shall keep the dinner moving right along, sir."

  Tragg was back before the waiter had finished serving the cocktails. He waited until the waiter had left, then sat down, and pushed the plate with the cocktail glass away from him so that he could lean across the table and look directly at Mason.

  "Find out anything?" Mason asked, holding a fork over his cocktail.

  Tragg said, "Mason, I have to hand it to you. You have a touch of – well, more than a touch of the genius."

  "What now?"

  "Spinney showed up at a garage just as you had predicted, took the automobile and the driver, was driven exactly eighty-two miles, stopped the car in the middle of a mountain road, said he would get out there, and the last the driver saw of him he was sauntering along the mountain grade, just a harmless nut attired in a tuxedo, light dress shoes, and a topcoat, strolling casually in the deep dust of a dirt road among the pines. Now then, that is one thing I learned."

  "And the other?" Drake asked.

  "And the other," Tragg said, keeping his eyes fastened on Mason, "was that the body of Ernest Tanner has been found doubled over the bathtub in the bathroom which communicates between the rooms of Stephane Claire and her uncle Max Olger, in the Adirondack Hotel. And in case you don't remember, Mr. Mason, Ernest Tanner is the chauffeur for Jules Homan, the man Homan virtually accused of using his telephone to place unauthorized long-distance calls to Mr. L. C. Spinney in San Francisco."

  Mason straightened. His fork clattered against his plate. "You are not kidding?" he asked.

  "I am not kidding," Lieutenant Tragg said in a calm, level voice, "and for your information, Mason, the murder was apparently committed at just about the time when you left your office while I was eating my hamburger sandwich."

  Mason said suavely, "Can't resist the spectacular, can you, Lieutenant? If you had asked me about those wet spots on my hat-brim..."

  "That," Tragg interrupted, "was simply my starting point. What the hell do you think I have been doing all the time I have been telephoning? I have had headquarters get in touch with the taxi drivers who stand around your office building. The time I have reference to Mason, was when you dashed out, jumped in a cab, went to the Adirondack Hotel, stayed about twelve minutes, and then tore back to the office."

  Chapter 18

  PAUL DRAKE'S face showed surprise and consternation, but Lieutenant Tragg wasn't watching him. He was studying Mason with the concentration of a surgeon making a diagnosis.

  Della Street said casually, "Chief, don't tell me you've committed another murder?"

  Tragg, still looking at Mason, said, "He didn't commit a murder, but Stephane Claire did, or else found the body in her room and telephoned Mason, and he told her to go out and concoct an alibi."

  Mason said, "Come, come, Lieutenant. You jump at the most absurd conclusions. How do you know that I didn't go to the Adirondack Hotel while you were eating your sandwich, to find out from Miss Claire whether it would be all right for me to take you into my confidence?"

  "And what did she say?" Tragg asked.

  Mason laughed. "Rather obvious, Lieutenant. I am afraid I can't help you there. I didn't see her at the Adirondack."

  "Why did you go there?"

  "I could have gone to see her, and yet not seen her."

  "You could have, but did you?"

  Mason said, "I see no reason why I should account to you for all my moves."

  Tragg said, "Mason, you are a delightful host. Personally, I like you. Officially, we are opposed. And I am asking these questions in my official capacity."

  Mason said, "All right, I will answer you in my official capacity. I am an attorney at law. I protect my clients to the best of my ability. I don't have to disclose anything that a client has told me. A client could tell me he had committed a cold-blooded, deliberate murder, and that communication is absolutely confidential."

  "The communication might be," Tiagg said, "but there are other things which aren't."

  "Such, for instance, as what?"

  Tragg inserted his thumb and forefinger in his vest pocket, took out a small piece of paper, unfolded it, and disclosed a small white feather, the tip of which was still moist. The lower half of the feather, however, was a dark, sinister crimson.

  Tragg, keeping his eyes steadily on Mason, said, "I have been advised Tanner was killed with a shot in the base of the brain, fired at close range from a small caliber revolver. A pillow had been used to muffle the report of the weapon, and a fold of the pillow got in the way of the bullet, ripping the pillow open and scattering feathers pretty much over the bathroom. It had started to rain. When you went in, there was moisture on your shoes, between the heel and the sole of the shoe. One of these

  feathers stuck to your heel without your knowing it, and it wasn't until you returned that the feather dried enough to drop from your shoe to the floor."

  "Are you trying to tell me you picked that up in my office?" Mason asked.

  "Not in your office. I noticed your hat when you took it from the cloak closet. Then when you were chasing Della Street down the corridor, this feather was swirling around on the floor in the air currents generated by Miss Street's skirts."

  Della Street said quickly, "I think that's being very chivalrous of you, Lieutenant. Another man would have suspected me."

  Tragg's eyes suddenly shifted to hers. "By George!" he said.

  She raised her eyebrows.

  "Why the devil didn't I think of it sooner? You were out. You said you were in Hollywood. Someone telephoned Mason. The message was important enough so that he left his office while he was waiting for Mrs. Greeley to bring in some evidence which would exonerate his client. It had to be you who telephoned."

  He stopped talking to study her intently. She met his eyes with a level gaze.

  "Go on, Lieutenant. It's fascinating to see a keen mind at work."

  He said slowly, "You found the body, and Mason didn't want you mix into it. He wouldn't have risked so much to protect Miss Claire. It was you he was trying to keep out of a mess. But the feather fell from his shoe. He had been over there in that room with the corpse."

  He ceased talking.

  "Well," she asked.

  "What have you to say to that?"

  She said, "As they say in Hollywood, you really have something there. It is terrific. I mean definitely."

  Tragg pushed back his chair. "Nuts! I am going up to the Adirondack," he said.

  "Why not have your dinner first?" Mason asked. "You will have men up there who can take care of the routine work."

  Tragg paid no attention to the invitation. He leaned forward, putting his clenched fists on the table. "Mason," he said, "I like you. Sometimes I think you like me. But I am just as good a fighter as you are, and just as bitter a fighter and just as ruthless a fighter. Have I made that plain?"

  "Perfectly," Mason said.

  "You represent people who have committed crimes," Tragg continued, "and I don't want you to leave this restaurant until I tell you you can. If you do, the results may be unfortunate. If you don't hear from me within the next thirty minutes, call me at the Adirondack Hotel or at headquarters. Tell me when you are going and where you are going."

  Mason said, "I shall do nothing of the sort. I report to no man. The only way you can control my activities is to put me under arrest."

  "And I might even do that."

  Mason got to his feet. "No hard feelings in case you do, Lieutenant. But I will have your hide if you try it. I enjoyed our little visit very much. It was a pleasure to cooperate with the police, even for so brief an interval. You understand my position, and I understand yours. I hope you will do me the honor of continuing our interrupted dinner at some later date."

  There was a trace of a grim smile at the corner of Tragg's lips. "Mason, I may have to put you in jail one of these days."

  "That's swell. Then I might have to get myself out, and make a monkey of you in the process."

  "That's fine if you can do it but I might keep you in jail."

  Mason pushed out his hand. "That's fine," he said, "if you can do it." '

  They shook hands.

  Tragg said, "I am going up to look over that homicide. Remember what I told you about keeping in touch with me and not leaving here until you ask my permission. Good night."

  Mason watched him stride across the corner of the dance floor, thread his way among the tables.

  "Any use to tail him?" Drake asked.

  "Certainly not," Mason said. "He has already made arrangements for plainclothes men to sew this place up, and it's a ten-to-one bet that he has tapped the line out of that telephone booth, hoping that I will call someone. And," he added with a grin, "I am damned if I don't."

  "Watch your step, Chief," Della Street cautioned.

  Mason glanced at his wrist watch. "I will give him ten minutes," he said, "to make certain he has got all of his preparations made."

  "Then what?"

  Mason chuckled.

  Drake said, "Perry, he did pick up that feather in the hall. There was no fake about that. How did it get there if you weren't in the room with the body?"

  "Just the way he says it did, Paul."

  "Good God, Perry! Don't admit you were there – not to me."

  Mason picked up his fork and started eating his cocktail again. "Tragg is a very dangerous adversary."

  Drake sighed. "If only I had nerves like that," he said to Della Street.

  The dance music struck up. Della Street's foot sought Mason's ankle under the table, give it a slight nudge. He pushed back from the table, moved over to Della Street's chair. A moment later they glided out onto the floor.

  "What was it?" she asked.

  Mason said, "Hortense Zitkousky telephoned. She was in a panic. I decided it would take a lot to get her in a panic, that I should better go see what it was. It was Tanner lying across the bathtub just as Tragg described it. Someone had pushed a pillow up against the back of his head, stuck a gun into the pillow, and pulled the trigger."

  "What was he doing while all that was going on?"

  "Apparently being very ill from having absorbed too much alcohol."

  "Who did it?"

  "Horty says she has no idea. She got him up to Stephane's room because she wanted to have some central place to park him until Max Olger could get his story. He was getting talkative. She thought he was going to spill something important. She went downstairs to telephone me. The phone was busy. She went back up to the room and found what had happened. The second time, she called me from the room. She was wearing gloves."

  Della Street followed Mason's leads mechanically while she digested that information.

  "Knowing Horty," Mason said, "you can believe her. If you didn't know Horty, you wouldn't."

  "But they will find out she was out with him."

  "How?"

  "Well... don't you suppose someone saw them? Her appearance is rather – well, distinctive."

  "It is if you connect her with Stephane Claire. Otherwise it isn't. She is not so heavy. It is the way she carries herself. She is one of the few women I have known who stand out in my mind as really justifying the adjective voluptuous."

  "But after all, you weren't responsible. Why not simply have notified the police and ..."

  "Because I am a hunter, Della. Some men get their thrills in life out of standing up to a charging lion or tiger. Some like to shoot small birds, some just like to hunt, not for what they kill, but for the thrill of hunting. Well, I hunt murderers. I think I know who killed Greeley. It is the only solution which fits in with the facts. And, Della, I want to bag that murderer. I don't want Tragg to do it. I am willing he should have the credit, but I want to be the one to do the hunting, and finding."

  "Well, why mix into Tanner's case so deep that you..."

  "Tragg wouldn't have let me be free to work. He would have had me all sewed up."

  "You mean just because you reported a murder?"

  Mason laughed. "Sure. Look at it from Tragg's view-point. He leaves me to go get a sandwich, and I run out and turn up another corpse."

  "Well, he knows you were there now."

  "Thanks to that telltale feather," Mason said. "That was an unforeseen break which went against me."