“Now, the next finger,” she said.

“You can’t fingerprint me,” Virginia said, pulling back. “Why, I-“

The grip on the finger tightened. “Now, just don’t make it hard on yourself,” the policewoman said. “The index finger, please.”

“I refuse!- Good heavens, what have I done?” Virginia asked. “I-Why, this is a nightmare.”

“You’re privileged to make a telephone call,” the woman said. “You can call an attorney, if you wish.”

The words clicked in Virginia ’s mind.

“Where is a telephone directory?” she asked. “I want the office of Perry Mason.”

A few moments later, Virginia had Della Street, Perry Mason’s confidential secretary, on the line.

“May I speak with Perry Mason, please?”

“You’ll have to tell me what it’s about,” Della Street said, “perhaps I can help you.”

“I’m Virginia Baxter,” she said. “I worked for Delano Bannock, the attorney, during his lifetime and up to his death a couple of years ago. I’ve seen Mr. Mason two or three times. He came to Mr. Bannock’s office. He may remember me; I was the secretary and receptionist.”

“I see,” Della said. “What is the present problem, Miss Baxter?”

“I’m arrested for having narcotics in my possession,” she said, “and I haven’t the faintest idea of how they got there. I need Mr. Mason at once.”

“Just a minute,” Della said.

A moment later, Perry Mason’s deep but well-modulated voice was on the line. “Where are you, Miss Baxter?”

“I’m at headquarters.”

“Tell them to hold you right there, if they will, please,” Mason said. “I’m on my way.”

“Oh, thank you. Thank you so much. I… I just haven’t any idea how this happened and-“

“Never mind trying to explain over the telephone,” Mason told her. “Don’t say anything to anyone except to tell them to hold you right there, that I’m on my way. How are you fixed for bail? Could you put up bail?”

“I… if it isn’t too high. I have a little property, not much.”

“I’m on my way up,” Mason said. “I want to demand that you be taken before the nearest and most accessible magistrate immediately. Just sit tight.”

Perry Mason invaded Virginia Baxter’s nightmare and tore aside the web of unreality and terror.

“The magistrate has fixed bail at five thousand dollars,” Mason said. “Can you raise that?”

“I’d have to draw out all of my checking account and withdraw money from the building and loan.”

“That would be better than waiting in jail,” Mason pointed out. “Now then, I want to know exactly what happened.”

Virginia told him the events of the morning.

“You were on the plane, coming from where?”

“From San Francisco.”

“What had you been doing in San Francisco?”

“I was visiting my aunt. I’ve been to see her several times lately. She’s elderly, not at all well and she’s all alone. She likes my visits.”

“What are you doing? Are you working for a living?”

“Not steadily. I haven’t been regularly employed since Mr. Bannock died. I have taken a few odd jobs.”

“I take it, then, you have some income?” Mason asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Mr. Bannock had no relatives, other than the one brother. He remembered me in his will. He gave me a piece of real property in Hollywood that produces an income and-“

“How long had you been with Bannock?”

“Fifteen years,” she said. “I started working for him when I was twenty.”

“You’ve been married?”

“Yes, once. It didn’t take.”

“Divorced?”

“No. We’re separated, have been for some time.”

“Friendly with your husband?”

“No.”

“What’s his name?”

“ Colton Baxter.”

“You go by the title ‘Miss’?”

“Yes. I think it helps in secretarial employment.”

“Now, you’d been to see your aunt. You got aboard that plane. What about the baggage? Anything unusual about the checking of the baggage?”

“No-Wait a minute, I had to pay excess baggage.”

Mason’s eyes showed swift interest. “You paid excess baggage?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have your receipt?”

“It’s attached to my ticket. That’s in my purse. They took my purse away from me when I was booked.”

“We’ll get it back,” Mason said. “Now then, you were traveling alone?”

“Yes.”

“Remember anything about the person you were seated next to?”

“He was a man of about thirty-two or thirty-three, rather well-dressed but-Well, now that I stop to think of it, he was… well, there was something peculiar about him. He was cold, rather crisp in his manner, not like the ordinary passenger you encounter on those trips. It’s hard to explain what I mean.”

“Would you know him if you saw him again?” Mason asked.

“Yes, indeed.”

“Could you identify him from a photograph?”

“I think so, if it’s a clear photograph.”

“You only had the one suitcase?” Mason asked.

“No, I had a suitcase and an overnight bag, an oblong bag containing cosmetics.”

“What became of that?”

“They took it. The suitcase came through first. The porter picked it up and then picked up the overnight bag. At that moment, a man stepped forward and showed me his identification card and asked me if I had any objections to his taking a quick look in my suitcase because there had been some trouble. Since my baggage had been delayed coming off the plane, I thought that was what he referred to.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him what was in the suitcase and that it was all right for him to look.”

“Can you remember anything more about the conversation?”

“Yes. He asked me first if that was my suitcase, and I told him it was, and he asked me if I could establish my ownership by identifying the contents. Then I described the contents, and he asked if it was all right to check.”

Mason frowned thoughtfully, then said, almost casually, “Your baggage, that is, the two pieces together weighed more than forty pounds?”

“Yes. They weighed forty-six pounds taken together, and I paid excess baggage on the six pounds.”

“I see,” Mason said thoughtfully. “You’re going to have to exercise a lot of self-control, and you’re in for a disagreeable experience, but perhaps we can work things out one way or another.”

“What I can’t understand,” she said, “is where the stuff came from and how it could have been placed in my suitcase. Of course, it was late coming off the plane, but one wouldn’t think anyone could tamper with it out there on the field going from the plane to the baggage counter.”

“There were several places it could have been tampered with,” Mason said. “After you checked the suitcase and before it was put on the plane, someone could have opened it.

“We don’t know where it was stored aboard the plane in the baggage compartment. We don’t know whether anyone could have tampered with it in there.

“Then, of course, when it was taken off the plane, there was this delay. That means that the suitcase was probably placed on the ground, waiting for another truck to come along to pick it up. Now, the way those planes are built, the baggage comes out on the other side from the side which has the passenger entrance. While the suitcase was there on the ground, it wouldn’t have been too difficult for someone to have opened it and inserted these packages of narcotics.”

“But why?” she asked.

“There,” Mason said, “is the rub. Presumably someone was trafficking in narcotics. He knew there’d been a tip-off and his baggage was going to be searched, so he put the contraband in your suitcase and then had an accomplice telephone the police that the stuff would be in the suitcase of one Virginia Baxter. He must have been able to describe you, because the officer who was standing there waiting for you to claim your baggage evidently had a good description of you and had you spotted from the time he saw you come down the escalator.”