“Let’s go take a look,” Mason said, “and I think you’d better come along, Della.”

  “What locker do you want to look into?”

  “I’ll tell them when I get there,” Mason said. “I just wouldn’t be too surprised, Paul, if—Well, I’m not going to commit myself now. Let’s go.”

  “My car or yours?” Drake asked.

  “Yours,” Mason said. “I want to think while you drive.”

  “I’ll make a phone call first and have this man meet us there,” Drake said. “He’s a good egg.”

  “He’ll be there by the time we are?”

  “Sure. He’s on the job off and on all the time. He’s a troubleshooter and serviceman.”

  “They have a master key that enables them to get into any of those lockers?” Mason asked.

  Drake said, “I know they do, but I’ve never gone into details of the modus operandi. I know I can get you a look, however.”

  “You do your telephoning,” Mason said, “and we’ll meet you down in the lobby.”

  Mason and Della Street took the elevator to the lobby, waited some three minutes before Drake showed up with the announcement that everything was all fixed, that a man by the name of Smith would be waiting for them when they drove up.

  They walked through to the parking lot, got in Drake’s car, and Mason was thoughtfully silent during the entire ride to the station.

  They parked their car and as they walked toward the main entrance an unobtrusive individual in a gray business suit, whose keen eyes were masked under bushy eyebrows, stepped forward and shook hands with Paul Drake.

  Drake said to Mason, “Meet Smitty, Perry. And this is Miss Street, Perry Mason’s confidential secretary.”

  Smith shook hands, said, “What numbered locker did you want to look into?”

  “FO82,” Mason said.

  “Can you tell me why?”

  Mason looked the man in the eyes and said, “No.”

  Smith grinned, said, “Well, at least that makes it simple. Now, I’ll open that particular locker and look inside, but we’re not going to touch anything that’s in there. Understand?”

  “That’s all right,” Mason said. “I want to look, that’s all.”

  Smith said, “Wait here a moment. I’ll get the key.”

  “They have an office here someplace,” Drake said, as Smith moved away. “Let’s go locate this locker.”

  Della Street said, “I can—”

  Mason nudged her into silence. “We can look around,” he said, “and get the thing located.”

  They walked around the banks of lockers. Della Street, putting her hand on Mason’s arm, exerted an almost imperceptible pressure guiding him to the proper bank.

  “Well, here it is, first rattle out of the box,” Mason said, “FO82.”

  “The key’s gone,” Drake said. “That means somebody has put a coin in the slot, put something in, taken the key and—”

  “Here comes Mr. Smith now,” Della Street said.

  Smith said, “Well, I see you folks found it all right. Now, you’ll have to stand back. I have to be sure that you don’t touch anything.”

  Mason said, “Mr. Smith, I wonder if you can tell me how these things work. I observe you have a notice on these lockers stating that the storage is only for twenty-four hours and that at the end of that time articles left in the lockers will be removed. Now, how do you measure that twenty-four hours in time?”

  “We don’t,” Smith said, grinning.

  “Well, what do you do?” Drake asked.

  “We approximate it,” Smith said. “What the average person doesn’t notice is this little meter that’s up here. Now, for instance, the number two-eight-four is on that meter. It’s very small and cunningly concealed so you wouldn’t notice it unless you were looking for it.

  “That number two-eight-four means that two hundred and eighty-four quarters have been dropped into this slot since this particular lock was put on.

  “Every night around eleven o’clock an attendant comes down here and checks the number of the locker and the number on the meter and writes the numbers down.

  “Now, tomorrow night at eleven o’clock, if this man comes down and notices that the number is still two-eight-four, he’ll know that somebody has kept that locker inactive for twenty-four hours, that he’s put something in it and has walked away with the key.

  “Quite naturally the company doesn’t want to have people use these as a permanent storage place for articles. We get quite a turnover on these. Some of them are used a good many times a day. It costs money to rent the space, it costs money to keep the lockers up.”

  “Go on,” Mason said. “What happens?”

  “Well, if this man checks this number and finds that the same number is on here that was on twenty-four hours previously, he opens the locker.”

  “How does he do that?” Mason asked.

  “He takes the entire lock off.”

  “While the locker is closed and locked?” Mason asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “How can he do that?”

  Smith said to Paul Drake, “I take it you folks want to look in here.”

  “That’s right, Smitty.”

  “Well, I’m going to take a look in but I don’t want anybody touching anything. Understand?”

  Drake nodded.

  Smith turned to Mason inquiringly.

  “That’s okay with me,” Mason said.

  “Now,” Smith said, “here’s the way we change the lock.”

  He took a passkey from his pocket, turned up a circular metal shield which was at the top end of the lock, inserted the passkey, and said, “This removes the entire lock. Now, if we find that someone has used these lockers more than twenty-four hours, of course that person has the key with him and we want to put this locker back into operation. So we simply remove the entire lock and put in a new lock with the key in it. We take the baggage out and leave it where the applicant can claim it by properly identifying it. Then the locker is back in service because there’s a new lock and the key is in it, and whoever wants to use it can do so by simply depositing twenty-five cents, putting his baggage in, taking the key out, and his baggage is reasonably safe until he wants to come back.”

  “Sounds interesting,” Mason said. “You’re now going to remove this lock?”

  “I’m going to remove the lock,” Smith said.

  He turned the passkey. There was an audible click, and Smith lifted out the entire lock, sliding it off the catch on the door as he did so and letting the door swing free.

  “Well, you see,” he said, “we have here an unusual situation. Usually when a person has left with the key, there’s baggage in here, but this time someone has gone away with the key and the locker is empty.”

  “Empty!” Mason exclaimed.

  “That’s right,” Smith said, pulling the door all the way back. Mason, Paul Drake and Della Street peered inside.

  “Now, how could that have happened?” Mason asked.

  “Only one way,” Smith said. “The man had the key. He came back, put the key in the locker, opened it, took out whatever was inside, then put in another quarter, locked the thing up and took the key with him.”

  “Why would he do that?” Mason asked.

  “All right,” Smith said, grinning, “I’ll counter with another question. Why are you interested in this particular locker?”

  Mason smiled. “I guess you’ve established your point, Smith.”

  “Looks like I have,” Smith said. “I’ll just put a new lock on here and we’ll put this locker back into operation. When this man shows up with his key, he’ll find that it doesn’t fit the lock that’s on the door. He’ll fool around for four or five minutes trying to make the key fit. He’ll look at the number on the key and the number on the locker and scratch his head and walk around and try it a couple more times, then he’ll go to the station-master to try and find out what’s wrong.”

  “Not this man,” Mason said. “I think that key is permanently out of circulation.”

  “Well, it’s okay with me,” Smith said. “We’ve got a duplicate key. We’ll put that lock back in service on another locker.”

  Mason said, “You’ve been of great service to us. Would a little folding compensation by way of thanks be out of place?”

  “Forget it,” Smith said. “I’m glad to do it as an accommodation to Paul Drake. He’s helped us out a time or two. Anything else I can do for you people?”

  “That’s all,” Mason said.

  Smith shook hands. “Mighty glad to have met you, Mr. Mason. Any time I can do you any good down here, let me know.” He turned to Drake, said, “Okay, Paul, be seeing you.”

  “Thanks, Smitty,” Paul said, and led the way toward the parking lot where he had left his car.

  On the way back to the office Drake said, “Now I suppose that this A. B. Vidal becomes very important and you’ll want to have me take extra precautions to—”

  “On the contrary,” Mason said, “A. B. Vidal is out of the picture as far as we’re concerned.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He never existed,” Mason said.

  “There’s a letter for him there,” Drake reminded the lawyer.

  “I know there is,” Mason said, “but you can see what happened. This man, whoever he was—and we’ll call him Vidal for want of a better name—went to this row of lockers. He put twenty-five cents in each of five lockers, took the keys out and had duplicates made. Then he came back and put the keys in the locks and left them.

  “He waited somewhere in the station until he saw someone put the package that he wanted in that particular locker. He had instructed that person to take the key out and mail it to A. B. Vidal at General Delivery. That was just a blind, something to throw people off the track.

  “Just as soon as this person was out of the station, Mr. Vidal walked up to the locker, fitted his duplicate key, opened it, took the package out, then put in another quarter and closed the door and locked it. In that way he was able to take his key with him. He’s got possession of the package he wanted, and left no trace.”

  “But what would have happened if some innocent traveler had come up and put a suitcase in that particular locker?” Drake asked.

  “Vidal had thought of that. He had keys to the four adjacent lockers. He gave his party instructions to go to FO82 if it was unoccupied. Otherwise, to take any unoccupied locker to the left on the same tier … You can see what happened. He had keys to all of those.”

  “I take it,” Drake said, “there’s quite a story here and you’re dealing with someone who has a lot of brains and a carefully worked-out plan.”

  “You’re right on everything except there being quite a story,” Mason said. “There isn’t any story. So far there’s only a chapter.”

  “And I’m to call off my men at the post office?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Remember this,” Drake said, “the postal inspector knows that we were interested in a letter sent to A. B. Vidal at General Delivery.”

  Mason thoughtfully digested that information, then said, “Well, we can’t help it now, Paul. Just call your men off and tell the postal inspector that you’ve changed your mind about being interested in the Vidal letter.”

  Della Street said, “It seems a shame, since Mr. Smith was so nice, that we can’t tell him that all he needs to do is to go to the post office and ask for a letter addressed to A. B. Vidal at General Delivery. He can tell them he’s Mr. Vidal and they’ll give him the letter and then he’ll have his key back.”

  “That’s right,” Mason said.

  “What’s right?” Paul asked, glancing suspiciously at Perry Mason.

  “It’s a shame that we can’t tell him,” Mason said dryly.

  Chapter Four

  Within fifteen minutes of the time Mason returned to his office, Paul Drake was tapping his code knock on the door to the lawyer’s private office.

  “Something new?” Mason asked as Della Street opened the door.

  “Your friend, A. B. Vidal,” Drake said.

  “What about him?”

  “The police want to know about him.”

  Mason pursed his lips. “Why the police?”

  “I’m darned if I know. They don’t confide in me. They want me to confide in them. But in any event, they’re anxious to get information about Vidal. It seems that they think he’s connected with a blackmail setup involving Morley L. Theilman. Now then, do you know Theilman?”

  Mason said, “As you have so aptly expressed it, Paul, the police don’t confide in you, they want you to confide in them. And when I hire a private detective I don’t always confide in him, I want him to confide in me.”

  “Well,” Drake said, “I managed to excuse myself for a minute, but this detective was waiting for me when I got back. He’s in my office now and he’s asking rather insistent questions.”

  “How do the police tie Vidal in with you?” Mason asked.

  “They had a tip that Vidal was using the mails to blackmail Morley Theilman. Theilman, it seems, has become for the moment unavailable, and the police in checking with the postal authorities found that I had been interested in Mr. Vidal. They want to know why I was interested.

  “Now then, Perry, I presume all this ties in with this locker at the Union Depot, but I can’t tell them so without your permission. On the other hand, I can’t withhold any information that has to do with a crime.”

  “You say this detective is in your office now?”

  “Yes. He’s waiting. He thinks I’m phoning.”

  Mason pushed back his chair. “All right, Paul, I’ll go back to the office with you and we’ll talk with this detective.”

  Drake’s face showed his relief. “That’s swell,” he said.

  “The detective know I’m mixed in it?” Mason asked.

  “I don’t know,” Drake said, “probably he does. The police know I do your work. I told this detective that before I answered his questions I would have to put through a telephone call and wanted to go into another office to put it through. He could have surmised I wanted to come down here and talk with you personally.”

  “What’s his name?” Mason asked.

  “Orland.”

  “Let’s go have a chat with him,” Mason said. He nodded to Della Street. “You tend the store, Della. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Mason walked down the corridor with Paul Drake to the offices of the Drake Detective Agency. Drake led the way down to his little cubbyhole of a private office which contained a desk, a swivel chair, a battery of telephones on the desk, and two smaller chairs at opposite corners.

  “Mr. Orland,” Drake said, “I want you to meet Perry Mason.”

  The man who rose from the chair was quietly dressed, of average build, and soft-spoken. “How are you, Mr. Mason?” he said. “I’ve seen you around Headquarters and up in court, but I’ve never met you.”

  Mason said, “I employed Paul Drake in this matter. Now, what do you want to know?”

  “I want to know everything you know about A. B. Vidal.”

  Mason said, “I can’t tell you very much about him.”

  “You were making inquiries of the postal authorities?”

  “That’s right.”

  “May I ask why?”

  Mason said, “There’s an envelope containing a key to locker FO82 at the Union Depot. As nearly as I know, the envelope contains that key and nothing else. It was addressed to A. B. Vidal at General Delivery. I wanted to get a line on Vidal when he picked it up.”

  “How do you know what’s in the envelope?” the detective asked.

  “I know because my confidential secretary, Della Street, put the key in the envelope, sealed the envelope, and then put the envelope in the mailbox.”

  “And what’s in locker FO82?” Orland asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Orland’s face showed surprise. “What?” he asked.

  “That’s right,” Mason said, “nothing.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I made it a point to find out.”

  “May I ask how?”

  Mason said, “Paul Drake, again. You’ll run on this anyway so we may just as well cover the ground right now and get it out of our system.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t follow you. You mean that you mailed a key to an empty locker?”

  Mason said, “We mailed the key to a locker.”

  “And what was in the locker at the time you mailed the key?”

  Mason said, “To the best of my knowledge, a suitcase was in the locker.”

  “What was in the suitcase?”

  “That,” Mason said, “is something I can’t tell you.”

  “Because you don’t know?”

  Mason said, “I will repeat. That is something I can’t tell you.”

  “Because it would be violating the confidence of a client if you did?”

  Mason said, “I will again repeat. That is something I can’t tell you.”

  Orland looked at Paul Drake. “You don’t have the same professional privileges an attorney does, Drake.”

  Mason said, “Drake knows nothing about any suitcase, nothing about Della Street having put the key in the envelope and mailed it. He entered the picture only to get a line on A. B. Vidal and after that to find out something about the contents of the locker.”

  “And how did you find that out?”

  “We got the locker service company to open the locker. They changed the lock, incidentally, so that the key that is in the envelope at the post office, while it is marked FO82, will no longer open that particular locker because there is now a new lock and a new number on that locker.”

  Orland said, “Well, that helps. We had been trying to unwind red tape so we could open that envelope and see exactly what was in it. It was evident there was a key in it and apparently it was a key to a locker somewhere. Your statement, as far as it goes, has been a big help but it stops short of what we want.”

  “That’s all I can tell you,” Mason said.