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The Case of the Velvet Claws :: Гарднер Эрл Стенли
Страница: 19 из 149Then hewalked over to the desk.
“Can you tell me,” he asked the clerk, “whether or not Frank Locke has a room here?”
The clerk ran his finger down the card index system, and said, “We have a John Lock.”
“No,” said Mason, “this is Frank Locke.”
“He’s not with us. Sorry,” said the clerk.
“That’s all right,” said Mason, turning away.
He crossed the lobby to the dining room and looked in there. There were a few people eating at the tables but Locke was not among them. There was a barber shop in the basement, and Mason went down the stairs and peered in through the glass partition.
Locke was in the third chair from the end, his face covered with hot towels. Mason recognized him by the tweed suit, and tan shoes.
Mason nodded and went back up the stairs to the lobby. He crossed to the girl at the telephone desk.
“All the booth calls are handled through you?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Okay. I can show you how to pick up twenty dollars pretty easy.”
She stared at him, and asked, “Are you kidding me?”
Mason shook his head. “Listen,” he said, “I want to get a number, and that’s all.”
“How do you mean?”
“Just this,” he said, “I’m going to put through a call for a man. He probably won’t take the call right away, but will come up here to get it later on. He’s in the barber shop now. After he talks with me, he’s going to call a number. I want to know what that number is.”
“But,” said the girl, “suppose he doesn’t put the call through here?”
“In that case,” Mason told her, “you’ve done the best you can, and you get the twenty bucks anyway.”
“I’m not supposed to give out information about those things,” the girl protested.
“That’s why you’re getting twenty bucks for it,” Mason said smiling. “That, and listening in on the call.”
“Oh, I couldn’t listen in on a call, and tell you what was said.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll tell you what’s said. All I want you to do is check up on it, so as to make sure that the number I get is the number I want.”
She hesitated, looked furtively about her as though fearful that some one might know what they were talking about, merely from a casual inspection.
Perry Mason took outtwo ten dollar bills from his pocket, folded them, and twisted them quietly.
The eyes of the girl dropped to the bills, and remained there. “Okay,” she said, at length.
“Can you tell me,” he asked the clerk, “whether or not Frank Locke has a room here?”
The clerk ran his finger down the card index system, and said, “We have a John Lock.”
“No,” said Mason, “this is Frank Locke.”
“He’s not with us. Sorry,” said the clerk.
“That’s all right,” said Mason, turning away.
He crossed the lobby to the dining room and looked in there. There were a few people eating at the tables but Locke was not among them. There was a barber shop in the basement, and Mason went down the stairs and peered in through the glass partition.
Locke was in the third chair from the end, his face covered with hot towels. Mason recognized him by the tweed suit, and tan shoes.
Mason nodded and went back up the stairs to the lobby. He crossed to the girl at the telephone desk.
“All the booth calls are handled through you?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Okay. I can show you how to pick up twenty dollars pretty easy.”
She stared at him, and asked, “Are you kidding me?”
Mason shook his head. “Listen,” he said, “I want to get a number, and that’s all.”
“How do you mean?”
“Just this,” he said, “I’m going to put through a call for a man. He probably won’t take the call right away, but will come up here to get it later on. He’s in the barber shop now. After he talks with me, he’s going to call a number. I want to know what that number is.”
“But,” said the girl, “suppose he doesn’t put the call through here?”
“In that case,” Mason told her, “you’ve done the best you can, and you get the twenty bucks anyway.”
“I’m not supposed to give out information about those things,” the girl protested.
“That’s why you’re getting twenty bucks for it,” Mason said smiling. “That, and listening in on the call.”
“Oh, I couldn’t listen in on a call, and tell you what was said.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll tell you what’s said. All I want you to do is check up on it, so as to make sure that the number I get is the number I want.”
She hesitated, looked furtively about her as though fearful that some one might know what they were talking about, merely from a casual inspection.
Perry Mason took outtwo ten dollar bills from his pocket, folded them, and twisted them quietly.
The eyes of the girl dropped to the bills, and remained there. “Okay,” she said, at length.