The Case of the Velvet Claws   ::   Гарднер Эрл Стенли

“All right,” he said, “I’m just telling you.”

There was a knock at the door, which opened from the outer office.

“Yes?” called Perry Mason.

The door opened and Della Street slipped into the room.

“Can you take another case today?” she asked solicitously, looking at his bloodshot eyes.

He shook his head, as though to shake away some mental fog.

“What kind of case?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s a girl expensively dressed, good looking. Seems well bred. She’s in trouble, but she won’t open up.”

“Sulky, eh?”

“Sulky? — Well, perhaps I’d call her sort of trapped.”

“That’s because you like her looks,” Mason grinned. “If you didn’t you’d call her sulky. What’s your hunch, Della? You usually have pretty good hunches on how the cases are going to turn out. Look at the last client.”

Della Street looked at Eva Belter, then looked hurriedly away.

“This girl,” she said slowly, “is angry inside, all torn up. She’s a lady, though, almost too much of a lady. She’s like… well, maybe she is just sulky.”

Perry Mason heaved a great sigh. The savage glint slowly faded from his eyes, and in its place came a look of thoughtful interest. He raised the back of his hand to his mouth, wiped off the lipstick, and smiled at Della Street.

“I’ll see her,” he said, “just as soon as Mrs. Belter goes out. And,” he added, “that will be in a very few minutes..”

The End