The Case of the Velvet Claws   ::   Гарднер Эрл Стенли

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But while I was busy looking things over, you got the original will and destroyed it. You planted your forged copy. Naturally Griffin and his lawyer walked into the trap and claimed that the will was the original holographic will of George Belter, because they knew the terms of the genuine will.

“As a matter of fact, it’s such a clumsy forgery, that they can’t even get a handwriting expert to testify that it’s genuine. They realize now the position that they’re in, but they’ve already filed the will and made affidavits to the effect that it’s genuine. They don’t dare to back up. It’s pretty slick.”

She got slowly to her feet.

“You’ve got to have some proof of this,” she said, but her tone was thin and trembling.

Mason nodded his head to Drake.

“Go in the next room, Drake,” he said. “You’ll find Mrs. Veitch in there. Bring her out and let her corroborate what I’ve said.”

Drake’s face was like a mask. He got up and walked to the connecting door which led to the adjoining room. He opened it.

“Mrs. Veitch,” he called.

There was a rustle of motion.

Mrs. Veitch, tall, bony, dressed in black, walked into the room with her lackluster eyes staring straight ahead.

“Good morning,” she said to Eva Belter.

Perry Mason suddenly said, “Just one moment, Mrs. Veitch. There’s one other matter I want to clear up before I have you make your statement to Mrs. Belter. If you’ll just step back in the other room for a moment, please.”

Mrs. Veitch turned and walked back to the room.

Paul Drake flashed Perry Mason a quizzical glance, and shut the door.

Eva Belter took two steps toward the outer door, then suddenly toppled forward.

Perry Mason caught her as she pitched forward.

Drake came up and took her legs. Together, they carried her to the bed, and laid her down.

Della Street laid down her pencil, gave a little exclamation, and pushed back her chair.

Mason turned on her almost savagely.

“Stay there!” he said. “Take down everything that’s said! Don’t miss a word!”

He went to the washstand, sopped a towel in cold water, and slapped it down on Eva Belter’s face. They loosened the front of her dress, and slapped her chest with the towel.

She gasped and recovered consciousness.

She looked up at Mason, and said, “Please, Perry, help me.”

He shook his head. “I can’t help you,” he said, “as long as you’re trying to give me the doublecross.”

“I’ll come clean,” she wailed.

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