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The Case of the Velvet Claws :: Гарднер Эрл Стенли
Страница: 24 из 149“I’ll meet youdown there.”
Mason went out, got in his machine, and drove to the main office of the telephone company. Drumm, in a police car, was there ahead of him.
“I got to figuring,” said Drumm, “that it might be better if you didn’t go up there with me when I got the dope. So I’ve been up and got it for you.”
“What is it?”
“George C. Belter,” Drumm told him. “And the address is 556 Elmwood. You were right about its being an unlisted number. It’s supposed to be airtight. Information can’t even give out the number, let alone any information about it. So forget where you got it.”
“Sure,” agreed Mason, pulling two tens and a five from his pocket.
Drumm’s fingers closed over the money.
“Baby,” he said, “these look good after that poker game I was in last night. Come around again some time when you’ve got another client like this one.”
“I may have this client for some time,” Mason observed.
“That’ll be fine,” Drumm said.
Mason got in his car. His face was grim as he stepped on the starter and sent the machine speeding out towardElmwood Drive.
Elmwood Drive was in the more exclusive residential district of the city. Houses, set well back from the street, were fronted with bits of lawn, and the grounds were ornamented with wellkept hedges and trees. Mason slid his car to a stop before five hundred and fiftysix. It was a pretentious house, occupying the top of a small knoll. There were no other houses within some two hundred feet on either side, and the knoll had been landscaped to set off the magnificence of the house.
Mason didn’t drive his car into the driveway, but parked it in the street, and went on foot to the front door. A light was burning on the porch. The evening was hot, and myriad insects clustered about the light, beating their wings against the big globe of frosted glass which surrounded the incandescent.
When he had rung the second time, the door was opened by a butler in livery. Perry Mason took one of his cards from his pocket, and handed it to the butler.
“Mr. Belter,” he said, “wasn’t expecting me, but he’ll see me.”
The butler glanced at the card, and stood to one side.
“Very good, sir. Will you come in, sir?”
Perry Mason walked into a reception room, and the butler indicated a chair. Mason could hear him climbing stairs. Then he heard voices from an upper floor, and the sound of the butler’s feet coming down the stairs again.
Mason went out, got in his machine, and drove to the main office of the telephone company. Drumm, in a police car, was there ahead of him.
“I got to figuring,” said Drumm, “that it might be better if you didn’t go up there with me when I got the dope. So I’ve been up and got it for you.”
“What is it?”
“George C. Belter,” Drumm told him. “And the address is 556 Elmwood. You were right about its being an unlisted number. It’s supposed to be airtight. Information can’t even give out the number, let alone any information about it. So forget where you got it.”
“Sure,” agreed Mason, pulling two tens and a five from his pocket.
Drumm’s fingers closed over the money.
“Baby,” he said, “these look good after that poker game I was in last night. Come around again some time when you’ve got another client like this one.”
“I may have this client for some time,” Mason observed.
“That’ll be fine,” Drumm said.
Mason got in his car. His face was grim as he stepped on the starter and sent the machine speeding out towardElmwood Drive.
Elmwood Drive was in the more exclusive residential district of the city. Houses, set well back from the street, were fronted with bits of lawn, and the grounds were ornamented with wellkept hedges and trees. Mason slid his car to a stop before five hundred and fiftysix. It was a pretentious house, occupying the top of a small knoll. There were no other houses within some two hundred feet on either side, and the knoll had been landscaped to set off the magnificence of the house.
Mason didn’t drive his car into the driveway, but parked it in the street, and went on foot to the front door. A light was burning on the porch. The evening was hot, and myriad insects clustered about the light, beating their wings against the big globe of frosted glass which surrounded the incandescent.
When he had rung the second time, the door was opened by a butler in livery. Perry Mason took one of his cards from his pocket, and handed it to the butler.
“Mr. Belter,” he said, “wasn’t expecting me, but he’ll see me.”
The butler glanced at the card, and stood to one side.
“Very good, sir. Will you come in, sir?”
Perry Mason walked into a reception room, and the butler indicated a chair. Mason could hear him climbing stairs. Then he heard voices from an upper floor, and the sound of the butler’s feet coming down the stairs again.