JК
The Case of the Velvet Claws :: Гарднер Эрл Стенли
Страница: 147 из 149”
He stood still at his desk, watching the back of the politician as it passed through the door and into the corridor. Then, as the door shut, he stood grimly staring at it, his eyes coldly antagonistic.
The door from the inner office opened softly. Della Street paused in the doorway, watching his profile. Then as she saw that he did not see her, did not even know that she had entered the room, she moved silently across the carpet to his side. There were tears in her eyes as her hands touched his shoulders.
“Please,” she said, “I’m so sorry.”
He started at the sound of her voice, turned, and looked down into the moist eyes. For several seconds they looked at each other, saying nothing. Her hands clung to his shoulders frantically, as though she were clinging to something that was being pulled from her grasp.
“I should have known better, chief. I read the papers this morning, and felt so low that…”
His long arm circled her shoulders, and scooped her to him. His lips pressed down to hers.
“Forget it, kid,” he said in gruff tenderness.
“Why didn’t you explain?” she asked chokingly.
“It wasn’t that,” he said slowly, choosing the words, “it was the fact that it needed an explanation that hurt.”
“Never, never, never, so long as I live, will I ever doubt you again.”
There was a cough in the doorway. Unnoticed, Eva Belter had entered from the outer office.
“Pardon me,” she said in icy tones, “if I seem to intrude but I am very anxious to see Mr. Mason.”
Della Street flung herself away from Perry Mason with flaming cheeks, and surveyed Eva Belter with eyes that had lost their tenderness and flashed with rage.
Perry Mason looked at the woman steadily. He seemed not in the least disturbed.
“All right,” he told her, “come in and sit down.”
“You might,” she said, in acid tones, “wipe the lipstick off your mouth.”
Perry Mason stared steadily at her.
“That lipstick,” he said, “can stay there. What is it you want?”
Her eyes softened, and she moved toward him.
“I wanted to tell you,” she said, “how much I misunderstood you, how much it meant to me…”
Perry Mason turned to Della Street.
“Della,” he said, “open the drawers in those filing cases.”
His secretary looked at him with uncomprehending eyes.
Perry Mason pointed to the steel filing cabinets. “Pull open a couple of drawers,” he said.
The girl opened the drawers, which were packed with pasteboard jackets that, in turn, were filled with papers.
He stood still at his desk, watching the back of the politician as it passed through the door and into the corridor. Then, as the door shut, he stood grimly staring at it, his eyes coldly antagonistic.
The door from the inner office opened softly. Della Street paused in the doorway, watching his profile. Then as she saw that he did not see her, did not even know that she had entered the room, she moved silently across the carpet to his side. There were tears in her eyes as her hands touched his shoulders.
“Please,” she said, “I’m so sorry.”
He started at the sound of her voice, turned, and looked down into the moist eyes. For several seconds they looked at each other, saying nothing. Her hands clung to his shoulders frantically, as though she were clinging to something that was being pulled from her grasp.
“I should have known better, chief. I read the papers this morning, and felt so low that…”
His long arm circled her shoulders, and scooped her to him. His lips pressed down to hers.
“Forget it, kid,” he said in gruff tenderness.
“Why didn’t you explain?” she asked chokingly.
“It wasn’t that,” he said slowly, choosing the words, “it was the fact that it needed an explanation that hurt.”
“Never, never, never, so long as I live, will I ever doubt you again.”
There was a cough in the doorway. Unnoticed, Eva Belter had entered from the outer office.
“Pardon me,” she said in icy tones, “if I seem to intrude but I am very anxious to see Mr. Mason.”
Della Street flung herself away from Perry Mason with flaming cheeks, and surveyed Eva Belter with eyes that had lost their tenderness and flashed with rage.
Perry Mason looked at the woman steadily. He seemed not in the least disturbed.
“All right,” he told her, “come in and sit down.”
“You might,” she said, in acid tones, “wipe the lipstick off your mouth.”
Perry Mason stared steadily at her.
“That lipstick,” he said, “can stay there. What is it you want?”
Her eyes softened, and she moved toward him.
“I wanted to tell you,” she said, “how much I misunderstood you, how much it meant to me…”
Perry Mason turned to Della Street.
“Della,” he said, “open the drawers in those filing cases.”
His secretary looked at him with uncomprehending eyes.
Perry Mason pointed to the steel filing cabinets. “Pull open a couple of drawers,” he said.
The girl opened the drawers, which were packed with pasteboard jackets that, in turn, were filled with papers.