"Why the munitions?" he asked.

"That's my business," Basset said.

Mason reached out, grabbed the boy's left hand, pushed the fingers open before young Basset could define his intentions, disclosed several more.38 caliber shells. One cartridge was empty.

"Where's the gun?" he asked.

"Don't try any of that stuff!" Basset flared. "You can't…"

Perry Mason grabbed the young man's shoulder, jerked him forward, spun him around, and, at the same time, slipped an exploring right hand beneath the back of the coat.

Dick Basset tried to struggle, braced himself, and jerked free, but not before Perry Mason had pulled the.38 caliber revolver from the right hip pocket.

Mason broke the gun open. The cylinder was unloaded. He smelled of the muzzle.

"Smells as though it had been fired," he said.

Dick Basset stared at him in whitefaced silence. Mrs. Basset jumped forward, wrapped her hands around the gun.

"Oh, please, , she said to Perry Mason. "I wondered where that was. Please give it to me."

Mason kept his hold on the gun.

"What's the idea?" he asked.

"I want it."

"Whose is it?"

"I don't know."

Mason looked at young Basset and said, "Where did you get it?"

Basset remained silent.

Mason shook his head at Mrs. Basset and gently disengaged her hands.

"I think," he said, "it will be safer with me for a while. Now, what's happened?"

She released her hold on the gun reluctantly, and said to the boy, "You show him, Dick."

Dick Basset pulled aside a Japanese screen, disclosing a corner of the room which had been concealed from the lawyer's gaze.

A broadhipped woman with faded red hair was bending over someone who lay on a dilapidated couch. She didn't look up as the screen was moved, but said over her shoulder, "I think she's going to be all right in a few minutes. Is this the doctor?"

The lawyer walked to one side so that he could look past the redheaded woman, to see the figure which lay on the couch.

She was a brunette in the middle twenties, attired in a dark suit. The blouse had been opened at the neck to disclose the white curve of a throat and breast. Wet towels lay on the couch near her head. A bottle of smelling salts and a small bottle of brandy were nestled in among the wet towels. The redheaded woman was chafing the girl's wrists.

"Who is she?" asked Perry Mason.

Mrs. Basset said slowly, "My daughterinlaw—Dick's wife. But no one knows it yet. She's going under her maiden name."

Dick Basset swung around as though about to say something, but remained silent.

Perry Mason indicated a bruise on the side of the young woman's head.

"What happened?"

"My husband struck her."

"Why?"

"I don't know why."

"What with?"

"I don't know. He struck her and then ran out of the house."

"Where did he go?"

"His car was in front. He jumped in it and drove away, going like mad."

"Was the chauffeur with him?"

"No, he was alone in the car."

"Did you see him?"

"Yes."

"Where were you?"

"I saw him from a window in the upper story."

"You know it was his car?"

"Yes. It was his Packard."

"Did he have any bags with him?"

"No, no bags."

The young woman on the couch stirred and moaned.

"She's coming to," the redheaded woman said.

Perry Mason leaned forward. Mrs. Basset stepped to the head of the couch, smoothed back the girl's wet hair, stroked her fingers over the closed eyes, and said, "Hazel, dear, can you hear me?"

The lids fluttered upward, disclosing dark eyes that stared dazedly. The girl retched, moaned and turned to her side.

"She's going to be sick, and then she'll be all right," the older woman said, nodding her head at Sylvia Basset, and turning to stare curiously at Perry Mason.

Perry Mason faced Mrs. Basset.

"Do you want me to take charge of this thing?" he asked.

"In what way?"

"Do you want me to handle it the way I think best?"

"Yes."

Perry Mason stepped to the telephone which was on the battered, cigaretteburnt desk, and said, "Give me police headquarters… Hello, headquarters? This is Richard Basset at 9682 Franklin Street. There's been some trouble out here. I think my father's been drinking, but he's clubbed a woman quite badly…

"Yes, it's my father. We want him arrested, of course. He's crazy. We can't tell what he'll do next. Please send officers at once… Yes, one of the radio cars is all right, only get here at once, because he may kill someone."

Perry Mason dropped the receiver on its hook, stared at Mrs. Basset.

"You," he said, "keep out of it."

He turned to the boy.

"You go ahead and take the initiative in this thing. I gather that you side with your mother, and against your father?"

Mrs. Basset said, "Of course, it will come out during the investigation that Hartley isn't Dick's father."

"Who was?"

"He's my son by a—a previous marriage."

"How long have you been married to Hartley Basset?"

"Five years."

Dick Basset said bitterly, "Five years of torture."

The woman on the couch stirred and moaned again. She said something that was unintelligible, then coughed and struggled to a sitting position.

"Where am I?" she asked.

"It's all right, Hazel," Mrs. Basset said. "Everything's going to be all right. There's nothing to worry about. We've got a lawyer here, and the police are coming."

The young woman closed her eyes, sighed, and said, "Oh, let me think—let me think."

Mrs. Basset moved close to Perry Mason.

"Please," she said in an undertone, "let me have the gun. I don't want you to have it."

"Why?"

"Because I think we should hide it."

"You're not supposed to have a gun," Mason told her.

"It isn't mine."

"Suppose the police find it?"

"They won't find it if you'll only give it to me. Please."

Perry Mason pulled the gun from his hip pocket and handed it to her. She dropped it down the front of her dress and held it there with her hand.

"You can't leave it there," Mason said. "If you're going to hide it, go ahead and hide it."

"Wait," she told him. "You don't understand. I'll take care of it…"

Dick Basset, bending tenderly over the young woman on the couch, exclaimed, "Good God!"

The girl opened her eyes. Dick kissed her, and she let one of her arms slide around his neck. She talked with him in a low voice. A moment later Dick Basset gently disengaged her arm, and turned to face them.

"It wasn't Hartley who hit her," he said.

"It must have been," Mrs. Basset insisted. "She must be delirious. I came as far as the outer office with her. I knew Hartley was alone."

Dick Basset said, excitedly, "It wasn't Hartley. Hazel didn't even talk with him. She knocked at that door to Dad's office. There was no answer. She opened the door and the office was empty. She crossed the office and knocked at the door of the inner office. Dad opened the door. Someone was with him. She couldn't see who it was. The man had his back to her. Dad told her he was busy, to go back and sit down.

"She waited almost ten minutes. Then that door opened. A man reached through and turned out the lights. He started to run through the office, saw her, and turned. Light from the inner office struck his face.

"She saw the black mask and the eyes through the black mask. One of the eye sockets was empty. She screamed. He struck at her. She tore off the mask. It was a oneeyed man she'd never seen before in her life. He cursed her and clubbed her with a blackjack. She lost consciousness."

"Only had one eye?" Sylvia Basset cried. "Dick, there's some mistake!" Her voice rose as though with hysteria.

"Only one eye," Dick Basset repeated. "Isn't that right, Hazel?"

The young woman nodded slowly.