"Shut up," said Perry Mason, calmly and without emotion. "I'm thinking. I don't want to be interrupted."

He paced the floor in silence for more than three minutes; then suddenly whirled to face Dr. Doray. He kept his thumbs in the armholes of his vest; his head was thrust forward, the jaw protruding.

"I was a fool to have come here."

"You were?" asked Dr. Doray, startled.

Perry Mason nodded.

"I'm in this thing deep enough already. I came here in the first place because I thought I'd find Marjorie Clune. I wanted to give her a break. God knows she's going to need it. Why didn't she join you on the midnight plane?"

"I tell you I don't know anything at all about her. I haven't seen her and haven't talked with her."

Perry Mason shook his head, almost sadly.

"Let's reason this thing out," he said. "None of her friends heard anything about her. You became alarmed. So did Bradbury. Both of you love her. Bradbury has money; he's an older man. You're nearer Marjorie's age. You've been practicing dentistry for a year or two and haven't very much saved up. You had a lot of equipment to pay for, and you've been building up a practice. You borrowed what money you could and came to the city to find Marjorie. You also wanted to bring Patton to justice.

"You drove your car in from Cloverdale. It's a distinctive car. You got in touch with Marjorie Clune. I don't know how. Through her you learned where Patton was living. You didn't know that when you talked with me. Therefore you must have reached Marjorie Clune after that. You didn't have any way of getting in touch with Patton except through Marjorie. You didn't have any money to hire detectives with. Marjorie Clune had an appointment with Frank Patton. Your car was tagged in front of a fire plug. It's better than an even money bet you drove Marjorie Clune to keep the appointment with Patton.

"Patton was found murdered. The weapon used was a knife. The police have traced that knife. They've found out the hardware store where it was purchased. The man in the hardware store identified your photograph as that of the one who bought the knife."

Doray's face was suddenly white.

"I'm not making any statements," he said.

"You don't have to," Mason told him in a calm, deliberate tone of voice. "I'm the one who's making the statements. I found Marjorie Clune. I got her to go to a hotel and register. She was to wait for me to call her. She wasn't to leave her room. She looked like the type of woman who would keep her promise.

"Something happened so that she didn't keep that promise. She walked out on me. In tracing her movements, I find that she intended to take the midnight plane. I trail the midnight plane and find you were on it. Therefore it's a fair inference that it was through you she violated the promise she had given to me. Now, what argument did you use?"

"I didn't use any," Doray said. "I tell you I don't know anything at all about Marjorie Clune."

"Then she wasn't to join you here?"

"No."

"You didn't talk with her on the telephone?"

"No."

Mason stared down at Dr. Doray with glittering, savage eyes.

"What a fool you are," he said, "a smalltown dentist who's practiced dentistry for three or four years, and you think that fits you to give me a runaround in a murder case, which is my specialty. Young as you are, and dumb as you are, I wouldn't think of arguing with you about how you were going to fill one of my teeth. And yet you have the audacity to sit there and jeopardize the safety of the woman you love by trying to lie to me."

"I'm not lying to you, I tell you," Doray said.

There were beads of perspiration glistening on his forehead and on his nose.

Perry Mason took a deep breath.

"I sized Marjorie Clune up as a sweet kid, a straight shooting kid, a kid who had had the cards stacked against her. I decided to give her all the breaks I could. I didn't sit in my office and wait for the cops to arrest her, and then go into court to help her. I went out on the firing line and risked my own safety in order to give her a break. I wanted to put her in a position where she could cope with the police. I wanted to be where I could go over her story and find out what was wrong with it—what she had to forget, what she should emphasize. I wanted to coach her a little bit on what the police were going to do when they picked her up. I had her where I could do that. You came along and talked her out of it because you wanted her to come down here to Summerville on a weekend petting party."

Dr. Doray started to get up from the bed.

Perry Mason reached out with a rough hand and pushed him back.

"Sit down," he said, "and shut up. I'm not done talking to you yet. She was to have joined you on the midnight plane. She didn't. You can figure what that means. That means that the police picked her up somewhere and have held her without booking her. They've probably 'buried' her in some outlying town. That means that we won't have any trace of her until after they've given her all the third degree they can think of. They'll try every trick that's known to the police.

"When she talks, she's going to tell plenty, including the fact that you're here in Summerville, registered at the hotel under the name of Charles B. Duncan. That means you can expect the police here at any time. Now laugh that off."

Dr. Doray pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, mopped the perspiration from his forehead.

"My God!" he said.

Perry Mason said nothing.

Dr. Doray put his elbows on his knees. His hands hung limply between the knees, his head dragged forward as he stared at the carpet.

"I can tell you one thing," he said, "on my word of honor, and that was that I didn't talk her into coming down here. It was…"

"It was what?" asked Perry Mason quickly.

Dr. Doray caught himself.

"It was a complete mistake on your part," he said. "Marjorie Clune wasn't to join me here. She doesn't know where I am. She hasn't any idea where she can find me. I haven't communicated with her since I left Cloverdale."

"Just to show you," said Perry Mason, "what a poor liar you are…"

There was the sound of quick steps in the corridor, a tapping on the door.

Dr. Doray stared at Perry Mason with eyes that were wide with consternation.

Perry Mason jerked open the door before Doray could so much as move.

Marjorie Clune stood on the threshold, her blue eyes deep with emotion.

An expression of incredulous dismay came over her face as she stared at Perry Mason.

"You!" she said.

Perry Mason nodded, stood slightly to one side. She saw Dr. Doray.

"Bob," she cried, "tell me what's happened!"

Dr. Doray covered the distance between them in four swift strides, took her in his arms, held her to him.

Perry Mason walked across the room to the window, stood with his hands thrust in his coat pockets, staring moodily down at the street below.

"Why didn't you get the plane, dearest?" Doray whispered. "We thought you'd been arrested."

"There was a taxicab accident. I missed the plane. I came by the first train."

Perry Mason, still standing with his back to them, his face toward the window, called over his shoulder, "Why didn't you follow my instructions, Marjorie, and stay in your room?"

"I couldn't," she said.

"Why?"

"I can't explain very well."

"I think," he told her, with his back still turned to her, "that it's very important that you tell me."

There was a period of silence. Dr. Doray started to whisper in her ear.

Perry Mason caught the sound of the hissing sibilants and spun around on his heel.

"Cut it out," he said to Dr. Doray. Then, as his eyes held the blue eyes of Marjorie Clune, he said, "Come clean, Marjorie, it's important."

She shook her head, her face white to the lips.