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The Case of the Velvet Claws :: Гарднер Эрл Стенли
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Mason stared at him stonily. “Listen,” he said, “you may think you’ve got a perfect case, but right now I’m in the saddle, and I’m going to stay in the saddle.”
Atwood lost his temper. “You’re not in the saddle firmly enough to stay twentyfour hours!”
“You think not?”
“Permit me to remind you, counselor,” Atwood remarked, “that you might be considered an accessory to the murder. The police would doubtless be guided by our wishes in the matter, since my client is now the legal heir.”
Mason moved over toward him. “Any time I need you to remind me of where I stand, Atwood, I’ll call you up.”
“All right,” said Atwood, “if you want to be disagreeable about it, we’ll play that kind of a game.”
“That’s fine,” Mason told him, “I do want to be disagreeable about it.”
Atwood signaled to his client, and both men walked to the door.
Atwood strode through it unhesitatingly, but Carl Griffin paused with his hands on the knob, acting very much as though he had something he wanted to say.
Mason’s manner, however, was not encouraging. Griffin shrugged his shoulders and followed his attorney out of the office.
When they had gone, Della Street came in.
“Did you reach some kind of an agreement with them?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Can’t they beat us?” she asked, avoiding his eyes.
He seemed to have aged ten years. “Listen, Della, I’m fighting for time. If they’d given me a little time, and some elbow room, I’d have worked this situation out all right. But that woman had to go and drag me into it in order to get herself out. That left me with only one alternative—to get her in so that I could be on the outside, where I could do some good.”
“You don’t need to explain, chief,” she told him. “I’m sorry if I seemed to criticize you. It was all so unexpected, and so totally unlike you, that it surprised me. That was all. Please forget it.” But her eyes still avoided his.
“Sure,” he said. “I’m going down to Paul Drake’s office. You can reach me there if it’s anything important, but don’t tell anybody where I am.”
Chapter 17
Paul Drake sat at a battered desk in a cubbyhole of an office and grinned across at Perry Mason.
“Pretty clever work,” he said. “Did you have that up your sleeve all the time, or did you just pull it on her when the going got rough?”
Mason’s eyes were heavy.
Mason stared at him stonily. “Listen,” he said, “you may think you’ve got a perfect case, but right now I’m in the saddle, and I’m going to stay in the saddle.”
Atwood lost his temper. “You’re not in the saddle firmly enough to stay twentyfour hours!”
“You think not?”
“Permit me to remind you, counselor,” Atwood remarked, “that you might be considered an accessory to the murder. The police would doubtless be guided by our wishes in the matter, since my client is now the legal heir.”
Mason moved over toward him. “Any time I need you to remind me of where I stand, Atwood, I’ll call you up.”
“All right,” said Atwood, “if you want to be disagreeable about it, we’ll play that kind of a game.”
“That’s fine,” Mason told him, “I do want to be disagreeable about it.”
Atwood signaled to his client, and both men walked to the door.
Atwood strode through it unhesitatingly, but Carl Griffin paused with his hands on the knob, acting very much as though he had something he wanted to say.
Mason’s manner, however, was not encouraging. Griffin shrugged his shoulders and followed his attorney out of the office.
When they had gone, Della Street came in.
“Did you reach some kind of an agreement with them?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Can’t they beat us?” she asked, avoiding his eyes.
He seemed to have aged ten years. “Listen, Della, I’m fighting for time. If they’d given me a little time, and some elbow room, I’d have worked this situation out all right. But that woman had to go and drag me into it in order to get herself out. That left me with only one alternative—to get her in so that I could be on the outside, where I could do some good.”
“You don’t need to explain, chief,” she told him. “I’m sorry if I seemed to criticize you. It was all so unexpected, and so totally unlike you, that it surprised me. That was all. Please forget it.” But her eyes still avoided his.
“Sure,” he said. “I’m going down to Paul Drake’s office. You can reach me there if it’s anything important, but don’t tell anybody where I am.”
Chapter 17
Paul Drake sat at a battered desk in a cubbyhole of an office and grinned across at Perry Mason.
“Pretty clever work,” he said. “Did you have that up your sleeve all the time, or did you just pull it on her when the going got rough?”
Mason’s eyes were heavy.