The Case of the Velvet Claws   ::   Гарднер Эрл Стенли

He moved over close to Della Street, and said, “What is it,Della?”

She reached down the front of her dress and pulled out an envelope.

“A messenger brought this.”

“What is it?” he asked.

“Money.”

He opened the flap of the envelope. There were one hundred dollar traveler checks on the inside. Two books with one thousand dollars in each book. All of the checks were signed “Harrison Burke” and duly countersigned. The name of the payee was left blank.

There was a note attached to the checks, scribbled hurriedly in pencil.

Mason unfolded the note, and read it:



I thought it would be better for me to keep out of the way for a little while. Go ahead and keep me out of this. No matter what happens, keep me out of it.



The note was signed with the initials “H.B.”

Mason handed the books over to Della Street.

“Business,” he said, “is looking up. Be careful where you cash them.”

She nodded her head.

“Tell me, what’s happened? What has she got you into?”

“She hasn’t got me into anything except a couple of good fees. And before she gets done, she’s going to pay more.”

“She has too,” insisted Della. “She’s got you mixed up in that murder case. I heard some of the reporters talking this morning. She got you out there before she notified the police, and she’s framed things so that she can drag you into it at any time. What makes you think she isn’t going to tell the police you were the man who was in the room when the shot was fired?”

Mason made a weary gesture.

“I don’t,” he said. “I have an idea that she’s going to do that sooner or later.”

“Are you going to stand for it?”

The lawyer explained patiently.

“When you’re representing clients, Della,” he said, “you can’t pick and choose them. You’ve got to take them as they come. There’s only one rule in this game, and that is that when you do take them, you’ve got to give them all you’ve got.”

She sniffed. “That doesn’t mean that you have to sit back and let them accuse you of murder in order to protect a sweetheart.”

“You’re getting pretty wise,” Mason remarked. “Who’ve you been talking to?”

“One of the reporters. Only I haven’t been talking. I’ve been listening.”

He smiled at her. “Skip along and get these things out, and don’t worry about me. I’ve got work to do. Whenever you come over here, be careful that nobody shadows you.