The Case of the Velvet Claws   ::   Гарднер Эрл Стенли

“Make another receipt,” said Mason, “to this woman. Make it the same way you made the other one, with reference to a ledger page. This is for four hundred and seventyfive dollars, and it’s on account.”

Eva Belter passed the money over to Mason. He took it and gave it toDella Street.

The two women maintained toward each other that air of aloof hostility which characterizes two dogs walking stifflegged, one around the other.

Della Street held her chin high, as she took the money, and returned to the outer office.

“She’ll give you a receipt,” said Perry Mason, “as you go out. How about getting in touch with you?”

She said, quickly enough: “That’s all right. Ring the house. Ask for my maid and tell her that you’re the cleaner. Tell her you can’t find the dress I inquired about. I’ll explain to her, and she’ll pass the message on to me. Then I’ll call you.”

Mason laughed.

“You’ve got that down pat,” he said. “You must have used it often.”

She looked up at him, and her blue eyes set in a wide stare of tearful innocence.

“I’m sure,” she said, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Mason pushed back his swivel chair, got to his feet, and walked around the desk.

“In the future,” he told her, “you can save yourself the trouble of putting on that baby stare with me if you want to. I think we understand each other pretty well. You’re in a jam and I’m trying to get you out.”

She got to her feet slowly, looked into his eyes, and suddenly put her hands on his shoulders.

“Somehow,” she said, “you inspire me with confidence. You’re the only man I ever knew who could stand up to my husband. I feel as though I could cling to you and you’d protect me.”

She tilted back her face so that her lips were close to his, and her eyes were staring into his. Her body was quite close to his.

He took her elbow in his long, strong fingers and turned her away from him.

“I’ll protect you,” he said, “just as long as you pay cash.”

She squirmed around so that she was facing him again.

“Don’t you ever think of anything except money?” she asked.

“Not in this game.”

“You’re all I’ve got to depend on,” she wailed. “Everything in the world. You’re all that stands between me and utter ruin.”

“That,” he said coolly, “is my business. It’s what I’m here for.”

As he talked, he had been walking with her toward the door of the outer office.