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The Case of the Velvet Claws :: Гарднер Эрл Стенли
Страница: 16 из 149”
“No, no,” said Locke. “It’s going to take a little while to think it over.”
“No, it isn’t,” said Mason.
“I say it is.”
“You’ve got ten minutes,” insisted Mason.
“You’re the one that came to me,” said Locke. “I didn’t come to you.”
Mason said: “Don’t be foolish. Remember that I’m representing a client. You’ve got to make a proposition to me, and I’ve got to see that it’s transmitted to my client. And it isn’t going to be easy to get in touch with that client.”
Locke raised his eyebrows. “Like that, eh?” he said.
“Like that,” said Mason.
Locke said: “Well, maybe I could think it over in ten minutes. But I’ve got to call the office.”
“Okay,” said Mason. “Go ahead and call your office. I’ll wait right here.”
Locke went at once to the elevator and went down to the main floor. Mason strolled to the railing of the mezzanine and watched him cross the lobby. Locke did not go to the telephone booths, but left the hotel.
Mason went to the elevators, pressed the button, went down to the lobby, straight through the door, and crossed the street. He stood in a doorway, smoking and watching the buildings across the street.
After three or four minutes, Locke came out of a drug store and walked into the hotel.
Mason crossed the street, entered the hotel a few steps behind Locke, and followed him until he came abreast of the telephone booths. Then Mason stepped into one of the telephone booths, left the door open, thrust out his head and called: “Oh, Locke.”
Locke whirled, his chocolate brown eyes suddenly wide with alarm, and stared at Mason.
“Got to thinking,” explained Mason, “that I’d better telephone and see if I could get in touch with my client. So that I could give you an immediate answer. But I can’t get a call through. Nobody answers. I’m waiting to get a nickel back.”
Locke nodded. His eyes were still suspicious.
“Let the nickel go,” he said. “Our time’s worth more than that.”
Mason said: “Maybe yours is,” and stepped back to the telephone. He jiggled the receiver two or three times, then shrugged his shoulders with an exclamation of disgust, and left the telephone booth. The two men rode together in the elevator to the mezzanine floor, and returned to the chairs they had occupied.
“Well?” said Mason.
“I’ve been thinking the thing over,” said Frank Locke, and hesitated.
“No, no,” said Locke. “It’s going to take a little while to think it over.”
“No, it isn’t,” said Mason.
“I say it is.”
“You’ve got ten minutes,” insisted Mason.
“You’re the one that came to me,” said Locke. “I didn’t come to you.”
Mason said: “Don’t be foolish. Remember that I’m representing a client. You’ve got to make a proposition to me, and I’ve got to see that it’s transmitted to my client. And it isn’t going to be easy to get in touch with that client.”
Locke raised his eyebrows. “Like that, eh?” he said.
“Like that,” said Mason.
Locke said: “Well, maybe I could think it over in ten minutes. But I’ve got to call the office.”
“Okay,” said Mason. “Go ahead and call your office. I’ll wait right here.”
Locke went at once to the elevator and went down to the main floor. Mason strolled to the railing of the mezzanine and watched him cross the lobby. Locke did not go to the telephone booths, but left the hotel.
Mason went to the elevators, pressed the button, went down to the lobby, straight through the door, and crossed the street. He stood in a doorway, smoking and watching the buildings across the street.
After three or four minutes, Locke came out of a drug store and walked into the hotel.
Mason crossed the street, entered the hotel a few steps behind Locke, and followed him until he came abreast of the telephone booths. Then Mason stepped into one of the telephone booths, left the door open, thrust out his head and called: “Oh, Locke.”
Locke whirled, his chocolate brown eyes suddenly wide with alarm, and stared at Mason.
“Got to thinking,” explained Mason, “that I’d better telephone and see if I could get in touch with my client. So that I could give you an immediate answer. But I can’t get a call through. Nobody answers. I’m waiting to get a nickel back.”
Locke nodded. His eyes were still suspicious.
“Let the nickel go,” he said. “Our time’s worth more than that.”
Mason said: “Maybe yours is,” and stepped back to the telephone. He jiggled the receiver two or three times, then shrugged his shoulders with an exclamation of disgust, and left the telephone booth. The two men rode together in the elevator to the mezzanine floor, and returned to the chairs they had occupied.
“Well?” said Mason.
“I’ve been thinking the thing over,” said Frank Locke, and hesitated.