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The Case of the Velvet Claws :: Гарднер Эрл Стенли
Страница: 92 из 149”
“This is the last time I dareto try it,” she said. “I had an awful time getting away. They tried to follow me. I pulled the same stunt that Mrs. Belter did the first time she came to the office, of going through the dressingroom. It always bothers a man when he’s trailing a woman, and she walks into a ladies’ room. They’ll fall for it once, but not twice.”
“Okay,” said Mason. “I’ve kept under cover almost as long as I can myself. They’ll be picking me up sometime today.”
“I hate her!”Della Street said fervently. “I wish you’d never seen her. She isn’t worth the money. If we made ten times as much money out of it, she still wouldn’t be worth it. I told you just what she was—all velvet and claws!”
“Wait a minute, young lady,” Mason warned. “You haven’t seen the blowoff yet.”
Della Street tossed her head. “I’ve seen enough. I’ll have these things all ready by this afternoon.”
“Okay,” said Mason. “Let her sign them, and see that everything’s in order. I may have to grab them and run, or telephone you and have you meet me some place.”
She flashed him a smile and went out, very trim, very selfpossessed, loyal and very worried.
Mason waited five minutes, and then lit a cigarette, and walked out of the hotel.
Chapter 13
Mason paused at the door of room 946 in the Wheelright Hotel and tapped gently on the panels. There was no sound from within. He waited a moment, then knocked a little more loudly.
After a few moments, he heard a stir from the interior of the room, the creak of bed springs, and then a woman’s voice saying, “Who is it?”
“Telegram,” said Perry Mason.
He heard the door latch click on the inside, and the door open. Mason lowered his shoulder, pushed the door back and walked into the room.
The girl had on pajamas of the sheerest silk which revealed the details of her figure. She had been sleeping, and her eyes were swollen. Her face still had traces of makeup but showed a certain sallow color of skin beneath the cosmetics.
Seeing her in the light of the morning, Mason knew that she was older than he had at first thought. She was, however beautiful, and her figure would have been the delight of a sculptor. Her eyes were large and dark. There was a sullen pout to the mouth.
She stood before him without any semblance of modesty, but with a certain air of sullen defiance about her.
“What’s the idea of busting in here this way?” she asked.
“I wanted to talk with you.
“This is the last time I dareto try it,” she said. “I had an awful time getting away. They tried to follow me. I pulled the same stunt that Mrs. Belter did the first time she came to the office, of going through the dressingroom. It always bothers a man when he’s trailing a woman, and she walks into a ladies’ room. They’ll fall for it once, but not twice.”
“Okay,” said Mason. “I’ve kept under cover almost as long as I can myself. They’ll be picking me up sometime today.”
“I hate her!”Della Street said fervently. “I wish you’d never seen her. She isn’t worth the money. If we made ten times as much money out of it, she still wouldn’t be worth it. I told you just what she was—all velvet and claws!”
“Wait a minute, young lady,” Mason warned. “You haven’t seen the blowoff yet.”
Della Street tossed her head. “I’ve seen enough. I’ll have these things all ready by this afternoon.”
“Okay,” said Mason. “Let her sign them, and see that everything’s in order. I may have to grab them and run, or telephone you and have you meet me some place.”
She flashed him a smile and went out, very trim, very selfpossessed, loyal and very worried.
Mason waited five minutes, and then lit a cigarette, and walked out of the hotel.
Chapter 13
Mason paused at the door of room 946 in the Wheelright Hotel and tapped gently on the panels. There was no sound from within. He waited a moment, then knocked a little more loudly.
After a few moments, he heard a stir from the interior of the room, the creak of bed springs, and then a woman’s voice saying, “Who is it?”
“Telegram,” said Perry Mason.
He heard the door latch click on the inside, and the door open. Mason lowered his shoulder, pushed the door back and walked into the room.
The girl had on pajamas of the sheerest silk which revealed the details of her figure. She had been sleeping, and her eyes were swollen. Her face still had traces of makeup but showed a certain sallow color of skin beneath the cosmetics.
Seeing her in the light of the morning, Mason knew that she was older than he had at first thought. She was, however beautiful, and her figure would have been the delight of a sculptor. Her eyes were large and dark. There was a sullen pout to the mouth.
She stood before him without any semblance of modesty, but with a certain air of sullen defiance about her.
“What’s the idea of busting in here this way?” she asked.
“I wanted to talk with you.