The Case of the Velvet Claws   ::   Гарднер Эрл Стенли

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“The minute he puts anything about me in his paper,” said Mason, grimly, “I’ll sue him for libel, and I’ll keep on bringing a suit every time he mentions my name.”

She shook her head with tears on her cheeks.

“You can’t do that,” she said, “He’s too smart. He’s got lawyers who tell him just what he can do, and just what he can’t do. He’ll get around behind your back, and frighten the judges who are sitting on your cases. He’ll make the judges give adverse decisions. He’ll keep under cover and fight you at every turn of the road.”

Perry Mason drummed on the edge of his desk. “Baloney,” he said.

“Oh, why,” she wailed, “did you come out there? Why didn’t you simply put an ad in the paper?”

Mason got to his feet.

“Now look here,” he said. “I’ve heard enough of this. I went out there because I thought it was good business to go out there. That damned paper tried to hold me up, and I won’t be held up by anybody. Your husband may be ruthless, but I’m pretty ruthless myself. I’ve never asked for quarter yet. And I won’t give any.”

He paused to stare down at her accusingly. “If you’d been frank with me when you came in here this thing wouldn’t have happened. You had to go and lie about the whole business, and that’s the thing that’s responsible for the present mess. It rests on your shoulders, not on mine.”

“Don’t be cross with me, Mr. Mason,” she pleaded. “You’re all I’ve got to depend on now. It’s an awful mess, and you’ve got to see me through.”

He sat down once more and said, “Don’t lie to me then.”

She looked down at her knees, adjusted the hem of her dress over her stocking, and plaited little folds in the garment with the tips of her gloved fingers.

“What shall we do?” she asked.

“One of the first things we’ll do,” he said, “is to begin at the beginning, and come clean.”

“But you know all there is to know.”

“All right then,” said Mason, “tell me what I know, so that I can check up.”

She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Go ahead,” said Mason, “spill it. Tell me the whole business.”

Her voice was thin and helpless. She continued to fold the cloth of the skirt over the top of her crossed legs. She did not look at him as she talked.

“Nobody,” she said, “ever knew George Belter’s connection with Spicy Bits. He kept it so much under cover that nobody ever suspected. Nobody at the office knew, except Frank Locke. And George could control Locke.

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