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The Case of the Velvet Claws :: Гарднер Эрл Стенли
Страница: 13 из 149His nose was big,and his mouth weak. To a casual observer, he seemed utterly mild and innocuous.
“Well,” he said, “you can talk here.”
Perry Mason shook his head. “No, you’ve got this place rigged up with all sorts of dictographs. I’ll talk where I know that you’re the only one that’ll hear what I’m going to say.”
“Where?” asked Frank Locke.
“You can come to my office,” said Mason, without hope or enthusiasm in his tone.
Frank Locke laughed, and his laugh was gratingly mirthless. “Now I’ll tell one,” he said.
“Okay,” said Mason. “Put on your hat, and start out with me. We’ll agree on some place.”
“How do you mean?” asked Locke, his eyes suddenly suspicious.
“We’ll pick a hotel,” said Mason.
“One that you’ve picked out already?” asked Locke.
“No,” said Mason, “we’ll get a cab and tell him to drive us around. If you’re that suspicious, you can pick the hotel yourself.”
Frank Locke hesitated a minute, then said: “Excuse me a moment. I’ll have to see if it’s all right for me to leave the office. I’ve got some things that I’ve been working on.”
“Okay,” said Mason, and sat down.
Frank Locke jumped up from behind the desk and left the room. He left the door open as he went out. From the outer offices came the clack of busy typewriters, the hum of voices. Perry Mason sat and smoked placidly. His face held that expression of absorbed concentration which was so typical of him.
He waited almost ten minutes. Then Frank Locke came in, wearing his hat.
“All right,” he said, “I can leave now.”
The two men left the building together, hailed a cruising cab.
“Drive around the business section,” said Perry Mason.
Locke regarded the attorney with those chocolate brown eyes of his, which seemed to contain no expression whatever.
“Maybe we could talk here,” he said.
Mason shook his head. “I want to talk where I don’t have to yell.”
Locke grinned and said: “I’m used to being yelled at.”
Mason said, grimly: “When I yell, I mean business.”
Locke lit a cigarette, with a bored air.
“Yeah?” he said casually.
The cab turned to the left. “There’s a hotel,” said Mason.
Locke grinned. “I see it,” he said. “I don’t like it because you picked it out, and because it’s too near. I’m going to pick the hotel.”
Perry Mason said: “Okay. Go ahead and pick one.
“Well,” he said, “you can talk here.”
Perry Mason shook his head. “No, you’ve got this place rigged up with all sorts of dictographs. I’ll talk where I know that you’re the only one that’ll hear what I’m going to say.”
“Where?” asked Frank Locke.
“You can come to my office,” said Mason, without hope or enthusiasm in his tone.
Frank Locke laughed, and his laugh was gratingly mirthless. “Now I’ll tell one,” he said.
“Okay,” said Mason. “Put on your hat, and start out with me. We’ll agree on some place.”
“How do you mean?” asked Locke, his eyes suddenly suspicious.
“We’ll pick a hotel,” said Mason.
“One that you’ve picked out already?” asked Locke.
“No,” said Mason, “we’ll get a cab and tell him to drive us around. If you’re that suspicious, you can pick the hotel yourself.”
Frank Locke hesitated a minute, then said: “Excuse me a moment. I’ll have to see if it’s all right for me to leave the office. I’ve got some things that I’ve been working on.”
“Okay,” said Mason, and sat down.
Frank Locke jumped up from behind the desk and left the room. He left the door open as he went out. From the outer offices came the clack of busy typewriters, the hum of voices. Perry Mason sat and smoked placidly. His face held that expression of absorbed concentration which was so typical of him.
He waited almost ten minutes. Then Frank Locke came in, wearing his hat.
“All right,” he said, “I can leave now.”
The two men left the building together, hailed a cruising cab.
“Drive around the business section,” said Perry Mason.
Locke regarded the attorney with those chocolate brown eyes of his, which seemed to contain no expression whatever.
“Maybe we could talk here,” he said.
Mason shook his head. “I want to talk where I don’t have to yell.”
Locke grinned and said: “I’m used to being yelled at.”
Mason said, grimly: “When I yell, I mean business.”
Locke lit a cigarette, with a bored air.
“Yeah?” he said casually.
The cab turned to the left. “There’s a hotel,” said Mason.
Locke grinned. “I see it,” he said. “I don’t like it because you picked it out, and because it’s too near. I’m going to pick the hotel.”
Perry Mason said: “Okay. Go ahead and pick one.