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The Case of the Howling Dog :: Гарднер Эрл Стенли
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"Something more about the dog?" he asked.
"He enclosed a will," she said, lowering her voice and looking furtively about the outer office as though afraid that some one might overhear her, "and ten one thousand dollar bills."
Perry Mason stood staring down at her with his forehead washboarded, his eyes squinted.
"You mean ten thousand dollars in currency?" he asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Sent through the mail?"
"Through the mail."
"Registered?"
"No, just special delivery."
"I," said Perry Mason, "will be damned."
She got up from behind the desk, walked over to the safe, opened the safe, unlocked the inner compartment, and took out the envelope and handed it to him.
"And you say there's a will?"
"A will."
"A letter with it?"
"Yes, a short letter."
Perry Mason fished out the ten one thousand dollar bills, looked them over carefully, whistled under his breath, folded them and put them in his pocket. Then he read the letter aloud.
Dear Mr. Mason:
I saw you during that last murder trial. I'm convinced you're honest and I'm convinced you're a fighter. I want you to fight on this case. I'm enclosing ten thousand dollars and I'm enclosing a will. The ten thousand dollars is a retainer. You get your fee under the will. I want you to represent the beneficiary named in that will and fight for her interests all the way through. I know now why the dog howled.
I'm drawing up this will, the way you told me a will like this could be made. Perhaps you won't have any occasion to probate the will or fight for the beneficiary. If you don't, you've got the ten thousand dollars, plus the retainer I gave you yesterday.
Thanks for the interest you've taken in my case.
Sincerely yours,
Arthur Cartright
Perry Mason shook his head dubiously and took the folded bills from his pocket.
"I'd sure like to keep that money," he said.
"Keep it!" exclaimed Della Street. "Why, of course you'll keep it. The letter shows what it's for. It's a legitimate retainer, isn't it?"
Perry Mason sighed and dropped the money onto her desk.
"Crazy," he said. "The man's crazy as a loon."
"What makes you think he's crazy?" she asked.
"Everything," he told her.
"You didn't think so last night."
"I thought he was nervous and perhaps sick."
"But you didn't think he was crazy."
"Well, not exactly.
"Something more about the dog?" he asked.
"He enclosed a will," she said, lowering her voice and looking furtively about the outer office as though afraid that some one might overhear her, "and ten one thousand dollar bills."
Perry Mason stood staring down at her with his forehead washboarded, his eyes squinted.
"You mean ten thousand dollars in currency?" he asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Sent through the mail?"
"Through the mail."
"Registered?"
"No, just special delivery."
"I," said Perry Mason, "will be damned."
She got up from behind the desk, walked over to the safe, opened the safe, unlocked the inner compartment, and took out the envelope and handed it to him.
"And you say there's a will?"
"A will."
"A letter with it?"
"Yes, a short letter."
Perry Mason fished out the ten one thousand dollar bills, looked them over carefully, whistled under his breath, folded them and put them in his pocket. Then he read the letter aloud.
Dear Mr. Mason:
I saw you during that last murder trial. I'm convinced you're honest and I'm convinced you're a fighter. I want you to fight on this case. I'm enclosing ten thousand dollars and I'm enclosing a will. The ten thousand dollars is a retainer. You get your fee under the will. I want you to represent the beneficiary named in that will and fight for her interests all the way through. I know now why the dog howled.
I'm drawing up this will, the way you told me a will like this could be made. Perhaps you won't have any occasion to probate the will or fight for the beneficiary. If you don't, you've got the ten thousand dollars, plus the retainer I gave you yesterday.
Thanks for the interest you've taken in my case.
Sincerely yours,
Arthur Cartright
Perry Mason shook his head dubiously and took the folded bills from his pocket.
"I'd sure like to keep that money," he said.
"Keep it!" exclaimed Della Street. "Why, of course you'll keep it. The letter shows what it's for. It's a legitimate retainer, isn't it?"
Perry Mason sighed and dropped the money onto her desk.
"Crazy," he said. "The man's crazy as a loon."
"What makes you think he's crazy?" she asked.
"Everything," he told her.
"You didn't think so last night."
"I thought he was nervous and perhaps sick."
"But you didn't think he was crazy."
"Well, not exactly.