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The Case of the Velvet Claws :: Гарднер Эрл Стенли
Страница: 27 из 149But don’t think that’s an admission that I’m mixed up with Spicy Bits. I don’t know a damned thing about it. And I don’t want to. Now get out!”
Mason turned and walked through the door.
The butler was on the threshold. He spoke to Belter.
“I beg your pardon, sir, but your wife wants very much to see you before she goes out, and she’s just leaving.”
Belter walked toward the door. “All right,” he said. “Take a good look at this man, Digley. If you ever see him on the place again, throw him off. Call a cop if you have to.”
Mason turned and stared at the butler.
“Better call two cops, Digley,” he observed. “You might need ’em.”
He walked down the stairs, conscious of the fact that the other two men were descending immediately behind him. As he reached the lower hallway, a woman glided out from a corner near the door.
“I hope I didn’t interrupt you, George,” she said, “but…”
Her eyes met those of Perry Mason.
She was the woman who had called on Mason at his office, and given the name of Eva Griffin.
Her face drained of color. The blue eyes became dark with sudden panic. Then, by an effort, she controlled the expression of her face, and the blue eyes enlarged to that wideeyed stare of baby innocence which she had practiced when she had been in the office with Mason.
Mason’s face showed nothing whatever. He stared at the woman with eyes that were perfectly calm and serene.
“Well?” asked Belter. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she said, and her voice sounded thin and frightened. “I just didn’t know you were busy. I’m sorry I disturbed you.”
Belter said, “Don’t mind him. He’s just a shyster who got in under false pretenses—and is leaving in a hurry.”
Mason whirled on his heel.
“Listen, you,” he said, “I’m going to tell you…”
The butler grabbed his arm. “This way, sir,” he said.
Mason’s powerful shoulders swung in a pivot that was like the swing of a golf professional. The butler was hurled across the hallway and slammed against the wall with force that jarred the pictures on their hangings. Perry Mason strode directly to the massive form of George Belter.
“I decided to give you a break,” he said, “and now I’ve changed my mind. You publish a word about my client, or about me in your sheet, and you’ll go to jail for the next twenty years.
Mason turned and walked through the door.
The butler was on the threshold. He spoke to Belter.
“I beg your pardon, sir, but your wife wants very much to see you before she goes out, and she’s just leaving.”
Belter walked toward the door. “All right,” he said. “Take a good look at this man, Digley. If you ever see him on the place again, throw him off. Call a cop if you have to.”
Mason turned and stared at the butler.
“Better call two cops, Digley,” he observed. “You might need ’em.”
He walked down the stairs, conscious of the fact that the other two men were descending immediately behind him. As he reached the lower hallway, a woman glided out from a corner near the door.
“I hope I didn’t interrupt you, George,” she said, “but…”
Her eyes met those of Perry Mason.
She was the woman who had called on Mason at his office, and given the name of Eva Griffin.
Her face drained of color. The blue eyes became dark with sudden panic. Then, by an effort, she controlled the expression of her face, and the blue eyes enlarged to that wideeyed stare of baby innocence which she had practiced when she had been in the office with Mason.
Mason’s face showed nothing whatever. He stared at the woman with eyes that were perfectly calm and serene.
“Well?” asked Belter. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she said, and her voice sounded thin and frightened. “I just didn’t know you were busy. I’m sorry I disturbed you.”
Belter said, “Don’t mind him. He’s just a shyster who got in under false pretenses—and is leaving in a hurry.”
Mason whirled on his heel.
“Listen, you,” he said, “I’m going to tell you…”
The butler grabbed his arm. “This way, sir,” he said.
Mason’s powerful shoulders swung in a pivot that was like the swing of a golf professional. The butler was hurled across the hallway and slammed against the wall with force that jarred the pictures on their hangings. Perry Mason strode directly to the massive form of George Belter.
“I decided to give you a break,” he said, “and now I’ve changed my mind. You publish a word about my client, or about me in your sheet, and you’ll go to jail for the next twenty years.