The Case of the Velvet Claws   ::   Гарднер Эрл Стенли

Mason commented, dryly: “Well, I presumed that you had.”

“You know,” said Locke, “the situation that you’ve brought up, without mentioning any names, might have a very important political angle.”

“Again,” said Mason, “still without mentioning any names, it might not. But there’s no use you and me sitting here trying to kid each other like a couple of horse traders. What’s your price?”

“The advertising contract,” said Locke, “would have to have a proviso that in the event it was breached, a payment of twenty thousand dollars would be made as liquidated damages.”

“You’re crazy!” exclaimed Mason.

Frank Locke shrugged his shoulders. “You’re the one that wanted to buy the advertising,” he said. “I don’t know as I’m anxious to sell it to you.”

Mason got to his feet. “You don’t act as though you wanted to sell anything,” he remarked. He walked to the elevator and Locke followed him.

“Maybe you’ll want to buy some advertising again sometime,” Locke said. “Our rates are somewhat elastic, you know.”

“Meaning that they’re going down?” queried Mason.

“Meaning that they may go up, in this case.”

“Oh,” said Mason, shortly.

He paused abruptly, and whirled, staring at Locke with cold, hostile eyes.

“Listen,” he said. “I know what I’m up against. And I’m telling you right now that you can’t get away with it.”

“Can’t get away with what?” said Locke.

“You know damned well what you can’t get away with,” said Mason. “By God! You fellows have run a blackmailing sheet here and made people eat out of your hands long enough. I’m telling you right now where you head in!”

Locke regained something of his composure, and shrugged his shoulders.

“I’ve had fellows try to tell me that before,” he said.

“I didn’t say I was trying to tell you,” said Mason. “I said I was telling you.”

“And I heard you,” said Locke. “There’s no need of raising your voice.”

“Okay,” said Mason. “Just so you know what I mean. By God! I’m starting after you fellows right now.”

Locke smiled. “Very well. In the meantime, would you mind pressing the elevator button, or else get out of the way, so that I can press it.”

Mason turned and pressed the button. They rode down in silence, walked across the lobby.

When they reached the street, Locke smiled.

“Well,” he said, his brown eyes staring at Perry Mason, “there’s no hard feelings.