"You've been a spoiled spitfire all your life," Perry Mason told her. "Now you're facing a situation you can't handle by yourself. Just as sure as you're standing there, you're going to be arrested within the next fortyeight hours, and the case that's going to be built up against you is going to be so black that I don't know whether I can get you out of it or not."

Sheer surprise pushed her rage to one side, and showed in her dark eyes.

"Arrested? Me, arrested?"

"Arrested," he told her, "for murder."

"Devoe was arrested for murder," she said. "He's the one that did it."

"Devoe didn't do it," said Perry Mason, "any more than I did. That is, if he did do it, no one is ever going to prove it. He's got an attorney that knows the ropes, and he's going to drag you into this."

"How do you know?" she asked.

"Because he was here in this office less than an hour ago and told me so."

She sank back in the chair and stared at him, all of the temper gone from her eyes, which were now dark and pathetic.

"What did he want?" she asked.

"Money," he said.

Her face showed a trace of relief.

"All right," she said. "We'll give it to him."

"We will not," he said.

"Why?"

"Because," he said, "he'd blackmail you to death. He doesn't know for sure that you are in a bad jam, but he suspects it. He wanted to make sure. If I'd talked terms with him, he'd have been sure. He's heard whispers somewhere. He wanted to verify them. If I'd given in to him on the money end of it, he'd have been sure."

"But," she asked, "what did you do?"

His voice was grim.

"I threw him out of the office," he said.

"How much does he know?" she asked.

"Not much, but he suspects a lot."

"I'm afraid of him," she said, in a voice that was almost a wail.

"You've got a right to be," he said. "Now I want to get at the bottom of this thing. Tell me exactly what happened when your uncle was murdered."

She took a deep breath and said in a low monotone, "I was in the house. I had had a quarrel with him. He had been very bitter, and I lost my temper and said things that hurt."

"You would," said the lawyer dryly.

"I did," she said, without expression.

There was a moment of silence.

"Go on," said the lawyer.

"He took some money from his wallet," she said. "It wasn't all of the money that was in there. There were some bills left. I don't know exactly how many, but he pushed the currency toward me and told me to take it. He said that he had intended to cut down on my allowance to bring me to my senses, but that he'd come to the conclusion I would never come to my senses. He said it was really my money and if I wanted to throw it away, that was my business."

"So you took the money," he told her.

"Yes, of course."

"Then what?"

"Then," she said, "I gave all of it except ten thousand dollars to Mrs. Mayfield."

"Why did you do that?" he asked.

"Because she knew I had been married, and was threatening to tell my uncle about it."

"Was that before Crinston came to the house, or afterwards?"

"You mean when I gave her the money?"

"Yes."

"Afterwards."

"Who saw you give the money to her… anyone?"

"Rob Gleason."

Perry Mason whistled.

"So Gleason was there, eh?" he asked.

"Yes," she said slowly, "Gleason was there. That's why I said I wasn't there."

"All right," he said grimly, "tell me about that."

"You know that we are married," she said. "Rob drove up in his car, a Chevrolet. There's a porch which opens out from my room, and he came to that porch and I let him in. He was worried about Mrs. Mayfield and about what my uncle was going to do. I told him that I'd seen my uncle and I thought things were all right.

"While we were talking, Mrs. Mayfield came in and demanded money. She had been listening, and knew that my uncle had given me some money. She didn't know how much.

"I told her I'd give her all I had. I opened my purse and let her take it out. But, before I did that, I had ditched ten of the one thousand dollar bills, because I knew you were going to need some money, and I was saving it for you. That was all I needed money for—just you and her. I thought then that things would be all right, with you representing me, and Mrs. Mayfield keeping quiet. I thought we could work the thing out some way."

"And Crinston had arrived by that time?" asked Mason.

"Yes," she said, "he had come before that. I heard him drive up. In fact, I was leaving my uncle's office when Crinston came up."

"And Graves, the secretary, was in the outer office all the time?" asked the lawyer.

"Yes, he was there all the time, and knows pretty much what happened. He knows a lot more than he lets on. He knows a lot about my uncle's affairs, and I have an idea he knows something about what Mrs. Mayfield is doing."

"All right," said Mason, "then what happened?"

"Well," she said, "Mrs. Mayfield went out, and I went out and sat on the porch with Rob. Then there was a commotion, and I heard running steps from the front of the house, and shouts, and heard something about my uncle having been murdered. I knew that it would never do for Rob to be there, so I told Rob to get in his car and drive away."

"And you went with him?"

"Yes, I went with him."

"Why did you do that?

"Because I didn't want to be there."

"Why?"

"I thought that I could fix up an alibi for Rob."

"How did you get out of the grounds?"

"There's a way out through an alley in the back, to the driveway. We went out there, and nobody heard us, I guess."

"All right, then what happened?"

"Then I came back home; that is, I had Rob drive me to a place about two blocks from the house, and got out there. I sneaked into my bedroom and talked with Don Graves. I found out from him that my uncle had reported the Buick as having been stolen, and they thought that I was driving it. I figured that was a good alibi for me, and would let Rob out of it, so I said that I had been driving the Buick, and nobody questioned my word."

"All right. Then what happened?"

"You know the rest. Everybody took it for granted that I had been driving the Buick, and I thought everything was all right until you came and told me about the speedometer records not checking up. I went out to put some mileage on the Buick, and found an officer there, who grinned at me and told me that the Buick was going to be held for evidence."

"They'd sealed it up?" asked Perry Mason.

"Yes. They put a padlocked chain around the front axle and through the spokes of the wheel, and they'd also locked up the transmission."

"That," said Mason dryly, "makes it nice."

She said nothing.

After a moment Mason resumed his regular pacing of the floor, and the girl watched him with dark, anxious eyes, her head never moving, but the eyes following him back and forth as he paced rhythmically.

"You," he said, at length, "are going to have a nervous breakdown. I know a doctor I can count on. He's going to examine you and order you to a sanitarium."

"What good will that do?" she asked.

"It's going to give me a little time," he said.

"But won't that make them more suspicious when I run away?"

"They can't get any more suspicious," he told her. "The minute they sealed up that Buick, it showed they were working on this other angle of the case. I tried to slip that notebook containing the mileages into my pocket, and make it appear I was doing it casually; but the officer wasn't so dumb. He called me on it, and I had to put the notebook hack."

"Did you know about the mileage then?" she asked.

"I suspected it."

"How did it happen you suspected it?"

"Because I knew you'd been lying to me."

Her eyes blazed.

"Don't talk to me like that!" she said.