Mason held the car door open for Della, then walked around and got in behind the wheel.

The lawyer was chuckling as they drove out of Rowena.

"Chief," Della Street said in an awed tone, "does that case of Novo versus Hotel Del Rio lay down the law that you said it did?"

Mason smiled. "Look it up when you get back to the office, Della. The doctrine laid down may be limited in future cases, but in that case the court said very plainly that transfer by a husband of community funds in payment of a gambling debt was within the meaning of the law a transfer without the consent of the wife and without the receipt of any valuable consideration by the husband. It's quite a decision.

"I can imagine that when some attorney delivers a talk on the law of community property to the housewives of Rowena and reads this decision, the meeting will be very, very well attended."

"And you deliberately walked off and left Ellen Robb there so that George could make a settlement with her?"

"I thought perhaps under the circumstances he might have a change of heart. You know, Della, I wouldn't be too surprised if he didn't also reach some sort of an understanding with Mrs. Ellis.

"I think on the whole it's been a rather unprofitable morning for George Anclitas."

"Well," Della Street sighed, "you can't say he's the only one. We've lost half a day from the office, given some attorney a whole lot of fees on a silver platter, making him the fair-haired boy child for the women of Rowena. We've thrown any fee in the Robb case out of the window, in addition to gasoline and mileage on the car."

"I know," Mason said, "but think of the enjoyable morning, the sunshine, the fresh air, the scenery."

"Particularly the scenery," Della Street said sweetly.

"Yes, indeed, the scenery," Mason agreed. "And somehow, Della, I have an idea we'll receive a phone call from Ellen Robb shortly after we get back to our office."

"Wanting to know about what to settle for?"

"Something like that," Mason said.

"What should she settle for?"

"About anything she can get," Mason said. "I think George Anclitas has learned his lesson. I think Ellen Robb has been fairly well compensated for whatever inconvenience was caused her by being thrown out clad in nothing much but a sweater and stockings."

"She doesn't mind that," Della Street said. "She's accustomed to appearing in public with nothing much on. She likes it."

"Tut, tut," Mason said, "don't sell our client short."

"If it had been a man," Della Street asked, "would you have done as much in the interests of justice?"

Mason thought for a moment, then met her eyes. "Hell no," he admitted.

"Leotards," Della said somewhat wistfully, "are hardly suited for office wear, but they certainly can do things for a girl."

"They certainly can," Mason agreed.

Perry Mason latchkeyed the door of his private office.

Della Street, who had been sorting the mail, looked up with a smile.

"Well, Della," the lawyer said, "I wonder what adventures the day holds."

"Let us hope that it's nothing that will take your mind from the brief in the Rawson case or the stack of mail that I've marked urgent and have been calling to your attention for the last two days."

Mason settled himself in his swivel chair and sighed. "I presume one can't go through life just skimming the cream off existence," he said. "Sooner or later one has to get down to chores, routine drudgery. But I really did enjoy yesterday, Della. It was in the nature of an adventure.

"Now I'm somewhat in the position of the housewife who has given a very successful party, has ushered the guests out with cordial good nights and walks out into the kitchen to find a sink full of dirty dishes."

Mason sighed and picked up the folder Della Street had marked urgent. He opened it, hurriedly read through the letter that was on top, tossed it over to Della and said, "Write him that it will be impossible for me to be in San Francisco and take part in the case, Della."

Della Street raised her eyebrows slightly.

"I know," Mason said. "He makes a nice offer, but I don't want to try a case with him. He has the reputation of being a little too zealous on behalf of his clients, particularly in connection with producing witnesses who swear to alibis. What's the next one, Della?"

Della Street 's telephone buzzed discreetly.

Della picked up the instrument, said, "Yes, Gertie," then looked at Mason and smiled. "A little more cream to be skimmed," she said. "Our friend, Ellen Robb, the singing skirt with the long legs, is in the reception room. She wants to know if it would be possible to see you. She says she'll wait the entire morning if you can give her just a few minutes. Gertie says she seems rather upset."

"Of course I'll see her," Mason said.

"Tell her to wait just a few minutes," Della Street told the receptionist, "and Mr. Mason will try to see her."

Mason pushed the file of urgent correspondence back.

"I thought we might have time for the other two letters that are on top. They're both urgent," Della Street said. And then added, "Miss Robb is probably conventionally dressed this time."

Mason grinned. "So the cream won't be as thick."

"Something like that," Della Street said. "Let us say that the scenic dividends may not be as great."

"You don't like her, do you, Della?"

"She has her points," Della Street said. "I should say her curves."

"And you don't approve?"

"There's something about her, Chief," Della Street said, "and frankly I don't know what it is."

"Something phony?"

"You have the feeling that she's… oh, I don't know. The girl's an exhibitionist. She's been capitalizing on a pair of wonderful legs and a beautiful figure. She uses them. Her singing voice is pleasing but it doesn't have much range. Her figure is her best bet."

"Pushing herself forward?" Mason asked.

"Oscillating is the word," Della Street said. "Of course, a woman with a figure like that, who is working in a place of that type is pretty apt to have been around, and… well, it would be interesting to know just what there is in her background, how she happened to be making her living that way."

"You mean she's probably done about everything?" Mason asked.

"Except teach Sunday school," Della Street said dryly.

"And you're warning me," Mason said, "not to become so fascinated by a pair of beautiful legs that I lose my perspective."

"Not only legs," Della Street said. "I have a feeling that she deliberately puts herself on exhibition in order to get what she wants."

"But this time," Mason said, "she will be conventionally garbed."

"She may be conventionally garbed," Della Street said, "but I'm willing to bet she's wearing something that's cut rather low in front and that, during the course of the conversation, she finds occasion to bend over your desk for some reason or other."

"It's a thought," Mason said. "Cough when she does it, will you?"

"Why?"

"So I can keep my perspective," Mason said, grinning. "Let's get her in, Della, and then we can get back to the routine of the urgent mail."

Della Street nodded, walked out to the outer office and a moment later came back with Ellen Robb.

Ellen Robb was wearing a skirt which was tight around the hips, with a band of pleats around the bottom which flared out as she swung around, displaying her knees. Her silk blouse revealed shapely curves. She wore a heavy pin at the closing of the low V-cut neckline.

"Oh, Mr. Mason," she said impulsively, "I feel like a heel coming in and taking up your time this way, but I desperately need your advice."

"About a settlement with George?" Mason asked.