"All this isn't getting us anywhere, Mason," Bradbury told him. "I thought you and I understood each other perfectly. I'm accustomed to my own way. I get it by hook or by crook, but I get it. A lot of people hate me; a lot of them think I use unfair tactics, but every one has to admit that when I say I'm going to do a thing I do it."

Della Street glanced from one man to the other.

Perry Mason smoked in silence.

"I told you," Bradbury said, "that I wanted Bob Doray to plead guilty."

"That isn't what you told me originally," Mason said.

"I've changed my mind, and, incidentally, my plans. It's what I'm telling you now," Bradbury said.

Mason pursed his lips thoughtfully, glanced at Della Street, then back to Bradbury.

"I would never have accepted the employment if I had known that was to have been one of the conditions, Bradbury," he said. "You remember that you forced me to represent Dr. Doray. I told you that if I represented him, I would represent him to the best of my ability; that I would put up a fight for him, and that his interests and the interests of Marjorie Clune would be the only things I would consider."

"I don't care what you told me," Bradbury said impatiently. "Time is getting short here. We've got to have some action, and…"

There was the sound of a man's weight lunging against the door of the outer office. The frosted glass showed the shadows of two men silhouetted against it. The knob rattled once more and then imperative knuckles pounded on the door.

Perry Mason nodded to Della Street.

"Open the door, Della," he told her.

Bradbury spoke swiftly.

"Let's not misunderstand each other Mason. I'm absolutely determined about this thing. You're working for me; you're going to follow my orders."

"I'm working," Perry Mason said, "for the best interests of my clients. I accepted the employment on the understanding that I was going to secure a complete vindication, and…"

He broke off as Della Street swung the door open.

Riker and Johnson pushed their way past her into the room.

"Well," said Riker, "we've got you at last."

"You boys looking for me?" asked Perry Mason.

Johnson laughed.

"Oh, no," he said with heavy sarcasm, "we weren't looking for you at all; we just wanted to see you about a little legal advice."

Riker motioned toward Bradbury.

"Who's this man?" he asked.

"A client," Perry Mason said.

"What's his business?"

"Why don't you ask him?" the lawyer replied. "It's confidential as far as I'm concerned."

Bradbury faced the two men and said nothing.

"They want you at headquarters for some questioning," Johnson remarked.

"It happens," Perry Mason observed, "that I've been out of the office for some little time and I've got quite a bit of business to attend to. I'm afraid I can't go to headquarters right now."

"We told you," Riker said, "that you were wanted at headquarters for questioning."

"Got a warrant?" Perry Mason asked.

"No," said Riker grimly, "but we can get one and it won't take very long."

"That's nice," Mason observed. "Go ahead and get one."

"Look here, Mason," Johnson said, "there's no use acting like a damn fool. You know we can take you down to headquarters. If you insist on a warrant, we'll get a warrant. If we get a warrant, there's going to be a prosecution. You're mixed up in this thing so that it looks as though you've laid yourself wide open on a felony rap. The chief is going to give you a break; he's going to let you explain before he presents the evidence to the Grand Jury. It's a break for you. If you can talk your way out of it, it suits us. We don't care one way or another. We were just sent here to bring you down."

"You boys said you wanted some legal advice," Perry Mason told them. "I guess, perhaps, you were right. Apparently you do. You can take me down to police headquarters when you've got a warrant for my arrest. You can't take me there before that."

"We can take you there right now as far as that's concerned," Johnson told him.

Perry Mason looked them over with a speculative and belligerent eye.

"Well," he said, "perhaps you can, and, again, perhaps you can't."

"Oh hell," Riker said, "go to the telephone and call police headquarters."

Perry Mason looked at the two detectives and laughed sarcastically.

"Come on, boys," he said, "let's cut the comedy. You're not talking with a dumb hick who doesn't know his rights; you're talking to a lawyer. If you folks had enough evidence to get out a warrant for my arrest, you'd have the warrant with you right now. You haven't got a warrant and you're not going to get one; not right away, anyhow. Perhaps the Grand Jury will mill the thing around and return an indictment, or you may find some one foolish enough to sign a complaint, but what you're trying to do is to get me on the defensive so you can inquire into a lot of my private affairs. I'm telling you you can't do it. There's the telephone. Go ahead and call police headquarters."

He turned to Della Street.

"Call their bluff, Della," he said. "Go ahead and get them police headquarters."

Della Street picked up the telephone and snapped in the plug with a vicious click.

"Police headquarters," she said.

Perry Mason grinned at the detectives.

"When I get ready to come to police headquarters," he said. "I'll come. When you fellows want to arrest me, go ahead and arrest me, but be damn sure that you do it in a legal manner."

"Now listen," Johnson said, "we've got a lot of stuff on you, Mason, a lot of stuff that's got to be explained. You're mixed into this case all the way through it. You started in messing around, getting Marjorie Clune out of the way."

"Do you know I got her out of the way?" asked Perry Mason.

"You had a taxicab running around to her apartment, and she left right after you were there."

"Indeed?" said Perry Mason, and then added, "how fortunate."

"Here's police headquarters on the line," said Della Street.

Johnson looked at Riker.

"Oh, hell," Johnson said, "let 'em go."

"Hang up, Della," Perry Mason said.

Della Street clicked the key as she cut off the connection.

"Just the same," Johnson said to Perry Mason, "I'll bet you five bucks we're here with a warrant before another fortyeight hours."

"I'll bet you five bucks you're not," Mason said. "Put up your money."

"Come on, Johnson," Riker said.

The men turned toward the door.

Bradbury stared steadily at Perry Mason.

"Just a moment, Mason," he said, "are you going to follow my instructions in the matter?"

Mason took two steps toward Bradbury, stood staring at him with ominous steadiness. Riker, his hand on the doorknob, paused. Johnson turned to stare.

"Get this," Perry Mason said to Bradbury slowly, "and get it straight, because I don't want to have to repeat myself. As far as this case is concerned, you're just Santa Claus, that's all. You're the man who put up the money. Aside from that you haven't got a thing to do with it; not one single… God… damned… thing."

Bradbury turned to the detectives.

"Gentlemen," he said, "if you will open the door of that private office, you'll find concealed in there Marjorie Clune, who is at present a fugitive from justice."

Perry Mason swung toward the detectives.

"You open that door without a search warrant," he said, "and I'll break your jaw."

The detectives exchanged glances, looked at Bradbury.

"I tell you I know what I'm talking about," Bradbury said. "She's in there, and if you don't make it snappy she'll get out through the door in the corridor."

Both men made a lunge for the door of the private office. Perry Mason swung about with the lithe grace of a pugilist. Bradbury jumped on him from behind, wrapping his legs about Mason's waist, pinning his arms. Thrown off balance, Mason staggered slightly. Riker charged into him and sent Mason and Bradbury sprawling to the carpet. Della Street screamed. Johnson banged open the door to the private office.