"Anyhow, I got a detective and we started locating Patton. We finally located Thelma Bell. She gave us a lead on Patton."

Perry Mason turned to Thelma Bell.

"You talked with some one from the detective agency tonight," he said.

She nodded.

"I didn't know he was a detective," she said. "I didn't know what he wanted. He wanted some information. I gave it to him. I didn't know what he wanted to use it for."

"Well," Perry Mason said, "that's the story. I was retained to represent you. I was retained to try and bring Patton to justice. I went out to Patton's apartment, when I found out his address from the detective who had been talking with Thelma Bell. I saw you, Marjorie, leaving the apartment."

The two young women exchanged swift glances.

Marjorie Clune took a deep breath, turned to stare steadily at Perry Mason.

"What," she asked, "did you find in Frank Patton's apartment, Mr. Mason?"

"What," asked Perry Mason, "did you leave there, Marjorie?"

"I couldn't get in," she said.

Perry Mason shook his head wordlessly in chiding negation.

"I couldn't!" she flared. "I went up to his apartment and pressed the buzzer. There wasn't any answer. I came back down."

"Did you try the door?" asked Perry Mason.

"No," she said.

"When you left the apartment," he said, "there was —"

"I tell you I wasn't in the apartment!"

"We'll let it go at that," he told her. "When you left the apartment house there was a woman bringing an officer to the apartment. She'd heard quite a bit of commotion in the apartment. She'd heard a girl screaming something about her legs being lucky, and having hysterics. Then she'd heard the sound of something falling, a heavy fall that had jarred the pictures on the wall."

Perry Mason stopped and stared steadily at Marjorie Clune.

"Well?" she asked, and her voice contained just the right amount of polite disinterest.

"Well," said Perry Mason, "what I want to know is whether you met that cop as you walked along."

"Why?"

"Because," he said, "you looked guilty. When you looked at me and saw I was looking at you, you turned your head the other way and acted as though you were afraid I was going to nab you and charge you with the theft of a thousand dollars."

Perry Mason watched her with his eyes slitted in shrewd contemplation.

The girl bit her lip.

"Yes," she said slowly, "I saw the officer."

"How far from the Holliday Apartments?"

"Quite a way; perhaps two or three blocks."

"You were walking?"

"Yes, I was walking. I wanted to…"

She broke off.

"Wanted to what?" asked Perry Mason.

"Wanted to walk," she said.

"Go ahead," he told her.

"That's all there was to it."

"You saw the officer. What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Did he look at you?"

"Yes."

"What did you do? Did you walk rapidly?"

"No," she said.

"Think again," Perry Mason told her. "You were almost running when I saw you. You were walking as though you were trying to win a walking race. Now, are you sure you didn't do that when the officer saw you?"

"Yes."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I wasn't walking at all."

"Oh, you stopped then?"

"Yes."

Perry Mason stared steadily at her and then said slowly and not unkindly, "You mean that when you suddenly saw the officer you turned faint. You stopped, perhaps put your hand to your throat, or something of that sort. Then you turned to look into a store window. Is that it?"

She nodded her head.

Thelma Bell slipped an arm around Marjorie Clune's shoulder.

"Lay off the kid," she said.

"What I'm doing," Perry Mason told Thelma Bell, "is for her own good. You understand that, Marjorie. You must understand that. I'm your friend. I'm here to represent you. There's a possibility that the officers may come here even before I've finished talking with you. Therefore, it's important to know just exactly what happened, and to have you tell me the truth."

"I am telling you the truth."

"You're telling the truth about not getting into that apartment?"

"Of course. I went to the apartment and couldn't get in."

"Did you hear any one moving around in there? Did you hear any one screaming? Any one having hysterics? Any one making reference to lucky legs?"

"No," she said.

"Then you came back down the elevator and out to the sidewalk?"

"Yes."

"And you're positive you didn't get in that apartment?"

"Positive."

Perry Mason sighed and turned to Thelma Bell.

"How about you, Thelma?" he said.

She raised her eyebrows.

"Me?" she asked in a tone of polite surprise.

"Sure, you," Perry Mason said, with a savage drive to his voice.

"Well," Thelma Bell said, "I'll bite. What about me?"

"You know what I mean," Perry Mason said. "Were you at the apartment tonight?"

"You mean Frank Patton's apartment?"

"Yes."

"Certainly not."

Perry Mason regarded her with calm appraisal, as though considering just what sort of an impression she would make on the witness stand.

"Tell me some more, Thelma," he said.

"I was out with a boy friend," she told him.

Perry Mason raised his eyebrows.

"Good girl," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"For coming home so early."

"That's my business," she told him.

Perry Mason regarded the toes of his shoes with casual interest.

"Yes," he said, "it's your business."

There was a period of silence. Perry Mason suddenly faced Marjorie Clune.

"Did you girls have an appointment with Frank Patton tonight?" he asked.

They looked at each other and raised their eyebrows.

"An appointment with Frank Patton?" said Marjorie Clune, as though it was a physical impossibility for her to believe her ears.

Perry Mason nodded.

The young women exchanged glances, then laughed in highpitched, patronizing amusement.

"Don't be silly," said Marjorie Clune.

Perry Mason settled back in the chair. His features were utterly without expression. His eyes were calm and tranquil.

"All right," he said, "I was trying to give you a break. If you don't want to take it, there's nothing I can do except sit here with you and wait for the police."

He lapsed into a calm, meditative silence.

"Why should the police come here?" asked Thelma Bell.

"Because they will know Margy is here."

"How will they know?"

"They'll find out the same way I did."

"How did you find out?"

He yawned, stifled the yawn with four fingers gently patting his lips, and, as he yawned, shook his head, but made no audible comment.

Marjorie Clune's glance toward Thelma Bell was distinctly uneasy.

"What will the police do?" said Marjorie Clune.

"Plenty," said Perry Mason grimly.

"Look here," said Thelma Bell suddenly, "you can't put this kid in a spot like that."

"What kind of a spot?" Perry Mason asked.

"Get her involved in a murder and stand by and not do anything to protect her."

The mask of patient tranquillity dropped from Perry Mason. He flexed his muscles. His eyes became hard, like the eyes of a cat slumbering in the sun who suddenly sees a bird hop unwarily to an overhanging branch.

"How did you know it was a murder, Thelma?" he asked, straightening in the chair and swinging about so that his hard eyes bored steadily into hers.

She gasped, recoiled slightly, and said with quivering lips, "Why, why you acted that way. From something you said, I guess."

He laughed grimly.

"Now listen," he said, "you can either take this from me or you can take it from the police. You girls had an appointment with Frank Patton tonight. Marjorie called up and left her telephone number. It was this number. The police will trace the number and come out here. Also, Margy telephoned a message Patton got just before he arrived at the Holliday Apartments, telling him to tell Thelma that she would be about twenty minutes late.