“On the other hand, Mrs. Mayfield said that she could capitalize on the information elsewhere, and if Frances Celane wouldn’t give her money, she was going to sell the information to some of the charitable institutions who would benefit by the knowledge.

  “Of course, this was all bluff, but Frances Celane didn’t know it. The whole situation came to a head on the night of the murder. Frances Celane had a stormy interview with Norton, and they quarreled bitterly. Norton said that before he went to bed that night he was going to execute a written document terminating the trust and giving to Frances Celane the annuity provided by the terms of the trust, and letting the balance go to charity.

  “Whether that was a bluff on his part or not I don’t know. Anyhow, that’s what he said. Then Mrs. Mayfield went to bed. Next morning Frances Celane had money, lots of it. She gave Mrs. Mayfield twenty-eight thousand dollars to keep quiet. Mrs. Mayfield promised she would.

  “Rob Gleason was there in the house that night, and participated in at least a part of the interview with Norton. Norton was furious, and accused the girl of all sorts of things. She got mad and used language that must have raised a blister on his ears.

  “Afterwards, Gleason went down to the girl’s room. That was after Crinston came, and before the murder. Along about that time Mrs. Mayfield went to bed. She doesn’t know exactly what happened, except that she’s certain Frances Celane didn’t go out in the Buick automobile. Therefore, she knows that the alibi Frances Celane was trying to make was false.

  “She went to you and tried to shake you down for money to keep Frances Celane out of it. You turned her down hard, so she started concentrating on the girl, and actually collected from her. Then she found out that the money she’d taken from Frances Celane was in thousand dollar bills that were numbered consecutively, and knew that these bills would be traced in the event that she tried to change them for smaller bills. So she has these bills hidden, and has tried to create the impression that Frances Celane gave you twenty-eight thousand dollars to apply on a fee. She has told the District Attorney’s office that that is what happened, and the District Attorney’s office has been trying to locate the twenty-eight thousand dollars. They’ve made examinations at your banks, and have even gone so far as to search the office. They have now come to the conclusion that you must be carrying the twenty-eight thousand dollars on your person.

  “The District Attorney is intending to use her as a surprise witness. She’s going to testify as to the falsity of the girl’s claim that she was out in the Buick automobile, and also to the quarrel that took place.

  “It’s the theory of the prosecution that a bitter quarrel was interrupted by Arthur Crinston; that the two people hatched out this murder plot and waited until Crinston had left to carry it into execution; that, as soon as Crinston drove away, they dashed up to the office and killed Mr. Norton, then planted the evidence in Pete Devoe’s room in order to make it appear Devoe was the guilty party, in the event the officers didn’t fall for the jimmied window and the footprints in the soft soil.”

  “How about Graves?” asked Perry Mason. “Have you done anything with him?”

  “I’ve done lots with him. That girl has turned him inside out. He’s going to be a bad man for you to handle, but he tells the girl that he’s trying to protect Frances Celane, or that he was trying to protect her until the District Attorney brought pressure to bear on him.”

  “Look here,” Mason said, “my theory of this case is that Norton gave Fran Celane that money before Crinston called. Now, Graves must have some information that’ll support that theory.”

  “That,” said Drake, “is the worst part of his testimony. He says he could hear every word of the conversation; that Norton took out his wallet and showed the girl forty thousand dollars, telling her he had originally gotten the money to give her, but that he wasn’t going to give her anything except a small amount for current expenses. Then he took out two one thousand dollar bills and handed them to her.

  “Don Graves has the idea the girl took the one thousand dollar bills, and that she and Gleason planted those one thousand dollar bills in the pocket of Devoe, the chauffeur, while Crinston was talking with Norton; that the girl and Gleason came back afterwards and killed Norton, taking the balance of the money from his wallet to use for the purpose of bribing the housekeeper to silence and paying you a sufficient cash retainer so you would interest yourself in the case. That’s the theory Graves has.

  “The District Attorney had things planned so that most of this would come out on cross-examination. He was going to slap you in the face with it. The fact that you’ve restricted your cross-examination so much has got Drumm worried. He’s going to try and bring out all of this stuff on redirect examination now, asking permission to recall the witnesses.”

  Perry Mason stretched his long arms, stared at the detective, and laughed.

  “Paul,” he said, “there are times when caution is a vice.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Paul Drake asked.

  “I mean,” said Perry Mason, “that at times it is wise to stake everything on one dramatic blow, one crashing knockout punch. I’ve only got one string to my bow in this case. If it breaks, I’m finished. But if it doesn’t break, I’m going to shoot an arrow right through the bull’s-eye of the whole case.”

  Drake said: “Well, Perry, if you can figure this thing out, you can do a lot more than I can. The more I see of it, the more mixed up and confused it looks.”

  Perry Mason started pacing the floor back and forth.

  “The thing that I’m afraid of,” he said, “is that I’m not keeping my real objective sufficiently concealed.”

  “How do you mean?” the detective inquired.

  “I’m stalking a bunch of geese behind a horse,” said Perry Mason, “and I’m afraid the horse may not be big enough to give me the concealment I want.”

  Paul Drake started for the door.

  “Listen,” he said, as he paused, with a hand on the knob of the door, “don’t worry about that. I’ve seen a lot of murder cases in my time, and I’ve talked with a lot of lawyers who thought they had a point when they didn’t have. If you think you’re going to be able to save either one of your clients in this case, you’ve got more optimism than I have. I just bet half of Della Street’s salary for this month, that your clients were going to be convicted, and, after talking with you, I’m going out and try and get a bet for the other half. That shows how much confidence I’ve got.”

  As he closed the door, Perry Mason was standing in the center of the office, with his feet spread wide apart, his jaw thrust forward, heavy shoulders squared, staring in steady concentration at the closing door.

  Chapter 23

  Headlines streamed across the front page of the STAR.

  “WITNESS TO MILLIONAIRE’S MURDER REFUSES TO MAKE TEST.”

  Perry Mason, with the paper propped up in front of him on the table, cracked his three-minute eggs and smiled with satisfaction. Down below the large headlines were smaller headlines:

  “DISPUTE OVER VISION OF STATE’S STAR WITNESS. DEFENSE CHALLENGES TO MAKE TEST AND PROSECUTION REFUSES.”

  Perry Mason salted and peppered his eggs, dropped in a square of butter, reached for a slice of crisp toast, and chuckled.

  He read the verbatim account of the trial, noticed that the challenge which he had hurled at the prosecution was printed in black-faced type, finished his breakfast, folded the newspaper, and went to his office.

  “Any news?” he asked Della Street.

  She regarded him with a wistful, half-maternal smile on her lips.

  “You’ve got it in your pocket,” she said.

  He grinned at her.

  “If the District Attorney refuses to accept the challenge now, I’ve got the case won in front of the jury,” he said.

  “What will you do if he accepts the challenge?” she wanted to know.

  Perry Mason walked to the window and stared thoughtfully out at the morning sunshine.

  “Now that,” he remarked, “calls for another question. Did you double your bet with Paul Drake?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good girl!” he said.

  “You think the D. A.’ll consent to the test?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “How are you going to determine that it’s a fair test?”

  “I can’t,” he told her, “but there’s no harm in trying.”

  “Well,” she told him, “you’ve got some good advertisement in this case, anyway. Every morning newspaper is speculating what it is you’ve got up your sleeve. You’re referred to a dozen times as ‘The Old Fox of the Courtroom,’ and most of the reporters state that the chief trial deputy was plainly worried at the manner in which the case was expedited.”

  “You mean,” he told her, “the newspapers figure I couldn’t possibly be as dumb as I seem.”

  She laughed. “I’m betting on you,” she said.

  “The D. A.’s got a couple of surprise witnesses,” Perry Mason said.

  “Surprise to whom?” she inquired.

  “That’s the question,” grinned Perry Mason, and walked to his inside office.

  He had no sooner closed the door than the telephone rang.

  “This is Drumm on the line now,” said the voice of Della Street.

  “Hello,” said Perry Mason.

  “Good morning, counsellor. This is Drumm speaking. I have been thinking over your demand for a test of the vision of Don Graves, and have decided to consent to making a test under exactly identical circumstances. I shall ask the court for an adjournment over the week end to enable the test to be completed and thought I would let you know.”

  “Nice of you,” said Mason.

  “Not at all,” snapped Drumm.

  Mason chuckled.

  “I meant letting me know,” he said.

  “Oh,” said Drumm.

  “Have you any plans worked out for making the test?”

  “I will announce that in court,” said Drumm. “Good-by.”

  Perry Mason was still chuckling as he slipped the receiver back on its hook.

  Perry Mason pressed the button which called Frank Everly to his office.

  “Everly,” he said, “there’s going to be a continuance granted in that trial this morning, so that arrangements can be completed for a test which is to be made. I’m not going up to court, but am going to send you up, to be there and arrange for the continuance. There will be nothing except the formality of getting the case continued over the week end. Drumm will undoubtedly have some scheme worked out under which he’ll want the test made and he’ll try to rush you into a consent to that scheme, while you are there in court in front of the jury.

  “Simply tell him that you were sent up to represent me for the purpose of consenting to the continuance, and that you have no authority to conclude the terms under which the test is to be made. That will necessitate his getting in touch with me when we are not in front of a jury.”

  Frank Everly nodded his approval, and there was a look of admiration in his eyes.

  “You forced him into it, eh?”

  “I don’t know. He’s consenting to the test. That’s all I want. I don’t care why he’s doing it.”

  “And by this means,’ said Everly, “you keep from having to quibble over the details in front of the jury?”

  “Exactly,” smiled Perry Mason. “Tell him that I’ll be in my office this afternoon to arrange the details of the test with him, or that I’ll meet him at any mutually satisfactory place. Be sure when you make the statement that you do it with an air of the utmost candor and frankness. The jury will be watching you closely and there’s been a little too much talk in the newspapers about my being an old fox.”

  “Okay, Chief,” said Everly, and swung out of the office, his face flushed with enthusiasm.

  Perry Mason got Harry Nevers on the telephone

  “Just wanted to let you know,” said Mason, “that the Deputy District Attorney just called up and told me he was going to consent to a continuance over the week end this morning, so that a test could be made.”

  The voice of Harry Nevers sounded in a husky, bored monotone over the telephone.

  “I can go you one better on that,” he said. “I was just going to call you and give you a tip. The D. A.’s office has a scheme framed up for that test. They’re going to put it up to you in front of the jury. You won’t like it, but you won’t dare to argue with it in front of the jury.”

  “All right,” Perry Mason said, “I can raise you one on that. I’m not even going to be in court. I’ve sent my assistant up to consent to a continuance. He hasn’t any authority to stipulate in regard to the conditions of the test.”

  Harry Nevers laughed. “That sounds a little more like it,” he said. “Will the court order the test?”

  “No,” Mason said. “I don’t think the court will want to have anything to do with it. It’s something that will have to be handled by stipulation. We’ll make the test and then let the witnesses testify Monday morning.”

  “When are you going to figure on the details of the test?” asked the reporter.

  “Probably right after the court adjourns,” Mason told him. “Drumm will get in touch with me. I thought I’d give you a ring and let you know that I can’t control the publicity that comes out of the D. A.’s office, but as far as I’m concerned you’re going to have an exclusive on the details just as soon as I reach an agreement with the District Attorney’s office.”

  Harry Nevers gave a dry chuckle.

  “I guess,” he said, “it’s a good thing that I had the photographer get a couple of pictures of you when he was over in the office. Something seems to tell me we will be running them about Tuesday morning, or in the evening editions Monday night.”

  “There’s one other thing I want you to do for me,” Mason said.

  “Gee, you’re full of those suggestions,” the reporter told him.

  “That’s all right. This is a simple thing.”

  “All right, shoot.”

  “When that test is arranged, I’m going to have things fixed so that Drumm and I will be downstairs in the automobile, and Graves will be upstairs. We’ll summon him by some kind of a signal. When we give that signal, I want you to detain Graves up there in that room.”

  “For how long?” asked Nevers.

  “As long as you can.”

  “What’s the idea of that?”

  “I want to get him rattled.”

  “You can’t rattle that bird. He’s a foxy guy, if I ever saw one.”

  “He may think he’s foxy, but he can be rattled just the same. I want you to put up some proposition to him that will hold him behind until he has to appeal to the District Attorney.”

  “Now,” said the reporter, “you’re asking something that’s making me suspicious.”

  “It doesn’t need to,” Mason told him. “If you’ll do that, I’ll give you a break afterwards so that you can claim you participated in the final result.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to participate in the final result,” said Nevers. “Those final results sometimes ain’t so hot.”

  “You won’t have to unless you want to,” Mason pointed out. “I’ll take all the responsibility. You can share in the credit.”

  “I think,” Nevers told him, “I’d better come over and talk this thing over with you a little bit.”

  Mason chuckled.

  “I knew you wouldn’t forget it,” he said.

  “Forget what?” asked the reporter suspiciously.

  “That bottle of whiskey in my desk,” said the attorney, and slipped the receiver back on the hook.

  Chapter 24

  The Norton mansion blazed with light, every window in the place was illuminated. More than a dozen automobiles were parked along the curb, or crowded into the driveway. Men came and went through the open door, and four or five police officers strutted importantly about the premises.

  Up in the study where Edward Norton had been murdered, Claude Drumm stared speculatively at Perry Mason.

  “I don’t know what you could ask for that is more fair than this,” he said.

  “Well,” Perry Mason told him, “it doesn’t seem particularly complete to me as a test. Don Graves has only a fifty percent chance of guessing wrong even if he were blindfolded.”

  “I don’t see what you’re getting at,” said Claude Drumm with purposeful stupidity.

  “You’ve got two women here,” said Perry Mason, “one in a black dress and one in a pink dress. You’ve got three men, all of whom are known to Graves. Now the idea is, as I understand it, that Judge Purley will drive his car up the roadway at exactly the same rate of speed, as nearly as he can remember, that he drove it on the night of the murder. When the car reaches a certain position in the roadway, Judge Purley is to shout: ‘Look!’ And at that time Graves is to turn and look.

  “After we have started up the roadway, the figures will arrange a pantomime. One of the three will stand with a club in his hand, and one of the women will stand so that her head, shoulder and arm are visible to a person going up the roadway.”

  “That is correct,” said Drumm.

  “Very well,” said Perry Mason. “Now the point that I am making is this: As far as the men are concerned, if Graves simply guessed, he would stand one chance in three of being right. As far as the women are concerned, if he simply guessed, he would stand an even chance of being right.”

  “Well,” said Drumm, “you can’t ask to have conditions any more favorable to your side of the case than they were at the time of the murder. Now there were only two women in the house at that time. There was Mrs. Mayfield, the housekeeper, and Frances Celane, your client. Now, it’s conceded that there was a woman in the room at the time of the murder . . .”