It was after seven-thirty. Mason and Della were closing up the office, and Mason was just holding the exit door open for Della when the unlisted phone rang stridently.

Mason said, "That's the unlisted telephone. That'll be Paul Drake."

Della Street nodded and hurried across to the instrument, picked it up and said, "Yes, Paul?"

She nodded to Mason, who picked up the extension phone on his desk.

"Hi, Paul," Mason said. "What's new?"

"This fellow Dutton is something of a problem, Perry."

"What about him?"

"He's being hard to find."

"I didn't think he'd be easy or I wouldn't be paying you fifty dollars a day to look him up."

"Well, he's trying to be real hard to find. Someone is looking for him and I have an idea that someone is a process server with some papers to put right in the middle of Dutton's hot little hand."

"And you think Dutton's hiding out to avoid that?"

"He's hiding out to avoid something."

"Where are you now, Paul?"

"I'm in a telephone booth across the street from a service station about four blocks from Dutton's apartment. I have an idea I'm going to pick up his trail. While I was waiting I thought I'd telephone for instructions."

"How come?"

"Well, I became pretty well convinced he wasn't intending to go back to his apartment. There's a man sitting outside waiting. I looked up the license number on his car. He's a chap named Rodger Palmer. From the way he acts, I think he's a process server. He's sure anxious to see Dutton and he has lots of patience. He's just covering thc entrance to the apartment house. Also, the girl at the switchboard said Dutton had been in and out several times earlier in the day, carrying a big brief case each time."

"Both in and out?" Mason asked.

"Both in and out."

"Could be he was moving stuff out and stashing it in the trunk of his automobile," Mason said.

"That's the point," Drake said. "I figured he'd buy his gasoline around here somewhere, so I covered all the gasoline stations around and finally not only hit pay dirt but I may have hit a jackpot, as far as Dutton is concerned. I found the place where he buys his gasoline and has the service work done on his car. The car is there now being serviced. He told the attendant to change the oil, give it a good lube job and check all the tires-that he was going on a long trip."

"Didn't say where?"

"No, but the car is there and I have a stake-out on it."

Mason said, "I want a line on Dutton, Paul. I'm mixed up in something with him and I may be skating on rather thin ice, ethically. A great deal depends on what kind of a guy he is, whether he's on the up-and-up or whether he's taking people for rides."

"Well, I think he's getting ready to skip out."

"All right, sit on the job," Mason said. "Follow him and find out where he's headed."

"How strong do I go?"

"As strong as you have to."

"Suppose he heads out of town?"

"Head out of town right after him, Paul."

"I'll probably need some help."

"Get it!''

"Suppose he buys a plane ticket and heads for Brazil?"

"Get the plane; get the flight number; wire your correspondent in Brazil and pick him up when he lands."

"In other words, the sky's the limit?"

"That's right. But what with his having the car serviced and all of that, you can be pretty sure he's going to start out by automobile."

"And you want me to stay with him?"

"Like glue," Mason said.

"Okay," Drake told him. "I'll be reporting. I'll need at least one assistant on the job. I'll phone for one now."

Mason hung up the phone and faced Della Street with a puzzled frown.

"How much are you mixed in all this, Chief?" she asked. "I mean, how deep?"

"Let's put it this way," Mason said, "Dutton tells me he's embezzled money from the beneficiary of the trust. The way he tells it, he's made restitution; and the way he says he did it, it was technically legal within the terms of the trust, provided he told me the truth about the trust.

"But the way he's acting doesn't coincide with his story to me. Unless you have something on for tonight, Della, let's go tie on a nosebag, then come back to the office and sit around for a while. I have an idea we may have a showdown somewhere along the line. We'll keep in touch with Paul Drake's office and let them know where we are."

Della Street smiled. "If you can promise an extra cut of rare roast beef for me, with baked potato, onion rings and a green salad, I'm with you until midnight."

"We'll double it," Mason said. "I know just the place where they specialize in that kind of food."

Halfway through the meal, the waiter approached the table and said, "You're accepting calls, Mr. Mason?"

"Yes, I told the headwaiter when I came in," Mason said.

The waiter nodded, and plugged in the telephone. Mason picked it up and heard Paul Drake's voice.

"Where are you now, Paul?"

"The office told me where you were," Drake said reproachfully. "I'm sitting in my automobile munching on a candy bar to keep my stomach from getting corns where it rubs against my backbone, I'm that hungry."

"What's the score?"

"Well, I picked up Dutton, all right."

"Where did he go?"

"Right now, he isn't going anyplace. He's sitting in a car, watching."

"What's he watching?"

"He followed a guy here who looks like a dressed-up beatnik."

"Tall, broad-shouldered, with a beard?" Mason asked.

"That's the fellow."

"And where is the place he's waiting?"

"It's the Doberman Apartments on Locks Street. Does that mean anything to you?"

"It means quite a bit," Mason said. "That's where Desere Ellis lives, and the man with the beard is probably calling on her."

"And Dutton is checking?"

Mason thought for a moment; then said, "No. Dutton probably is waiting to be sure the coast is clear when he talks to Desere Ellis. He probably has decided to tell her something rather important and he wants to be certain he isn't interrupted. The beatnik's name is Fred Hedley. He tries to ape the crowd and be a cool cat. Actually he wants to promote a deal with Desere Ellis whereby he can play God to a lot of artists, poets and writers.

"I can tell you that much, but it's in confidence.

"If my hunch is right, Paul, Dutton will wait there until Fred Hedley comes out and drives away. Then Dutton will go on up to the apartment."

"Then what?"

"When Dutton comes out," Mason said, "shadow him. Have you got a relief yet?"

"I had a little difficulty getting an operative I could trust," Drake said, "but I finally got one and he's on his way here. My men are tied up today. That is, the good men.

"I went out on this job myself, because the man I first sent out reported he couldn't get any trace of Dutton. I didn't like to hand you a failure, and I figured there'd be a lead if a man put in enough time looking for it. So I went out and started covering the service stations. I hit pay dirt there and got stuck with the job."

Mason said, "Get a relief. Put the finger on Dutton and go get a good dinner. Be sure you get a good man."

"The one I have coming is okay," Drake said.

Mason said, "We're going to be here at this cafe for another half hour; then we'll go up to the office and wait for your call there. Try to give us a report by tenthirty, because we'll knock it off shortly after that."

"Okay," Drake said, "will do."

Mason hung up the phone and related what he had learned to Della Street.

She made a little grimace.

"Meaning?" Mason asked.

"Meaning that Desere Ellis is or has been infatuated with Hedley and that's not the way things should be. I'm pulling for Dutton."