"We could, of course, get the back files of the newspaper," Bradbury said, "but these are complete files that we can introduce as evidence if we have to."

"I don't want to introduce them as evidence," Perry Mason told him, "I want to spread them out on a table in front of that crook and make him realize just what he's up against. You go and get them."

Bradbury dropped his magazine and started for the door. At that moment, the door opened and Della Street smiled at them.

"Am I late?" she asked.

"No," Mason told her. "Every one else is early. I'm just going out, Della."

She glanced meaningly at Bradbury.

"Mr. Bradbury," said the lawyer, "is going to his hotel to get some papers that he forgot. He'll be back with them within half an hour. You'll probably hear from me within half an hour—within an hour, anyway. Wait here until you hear, and have a shorthand book and some pencils ready. Mr. Bradbury will return to the office, and he'll wait for instructions here."

Bradbury's face was eager.

"You think you're going to get somewhere, Mr. Mason?" he asked.

"Perhaps," said Perry Mason.

"Look here," Bradbury said, "I'll telephone just as soon as I get to the hotel, so that if you've learned anything you can leave word for me."

Perry Mason turned his head slightly so that the wink of his right eye was visible only to Della Street.

"Okay," he said. "It may be that I'll want you to meet me somewhere."

He turned to Della Street.

"I'm on my way," he said.

"By the way," Bradbury said, "there's one question I wanted to ask you."

Perry Mason turned impatiently at the door.

"Has Dr. Doray called on you?" asked Bradbury.

"Yes," Mason said, "he has. Why?"

"You didn't accept any employment from him?"

"No, certainly not. That was part of the understanding I had with you. I wasn't to represent him under any circumstances."

"That is," Bradbury said, "without my consent."

Mason nodded.

"Why?" he asked.

"I want to warn you," said Bradbury, "that Doray is rather a peculiar character. If you get in touch with Marjorie Clune, bear that in mind, and under no circumstances let Doray know where Patton is, if you locate Patton."

"Why?" Mason asked. "You're afraid that Doray might do something violent?"

"I am quite certain he might," Bradbury said. "I happen to know of some statements he's made."

"Okay," Mason said. "There's no particular hurry, Bradbury. I think you've got half an hour anyway, but I'll keep in touch with the office, and you can do the same."

He pushed his way out into the corridor and slammed the door behind him, leaving Bradbury bending over Della Street 's desk, a look of keen interest in his eyes as he offered her a cigarette.

Perry Mason left his taxicab at Ninth and Olive.

"I'm going to want you for a while. You stick around," he told the driver.

He crossed the street to a drug store and found Paul Drake leaning against the marble slab of the soda fountain, smoking a cigarette.

"You were long enough getting here," the detective said.

"Bradbury was in the office," Mason told him, "and he wanted to tell me a lot of stuff about Doray."

"Yeah?" asked Paul Drake.

"And then," said Perry Mason, "he was offering Della Street a cigarette. He was doing it with something of a manner."

The men looked at each other and laughed.

"Well," Paul Drake said, "I don't know how you feel about it, but as far as I'm concerned, I don't care how impressionable he is. That's what's giving me the butter on my bread. Personally, I'd say he was laboring under the impression he was quite a ladies' man. Did you notice the way he smirked at Mamie down at the cigar counter?"

Perry Mason nodded curtly.

"However," Paul Drake went on, "you can't blame him. He's evidently a bachelor with plenty of money. You notice the way he dolls himself up. His tie must have cost more than five dollars. His tailored suit is a wonderful piece of work. And the particular shade of brown has been chosen with some care. You can tell, because it matches his complexion. And then he wears socks, shoes, tie and shirt all in a general color scheme of —"

Perry Mason made a gesture of disgust.

"Forget it," he said. "Let's get down to brass tacks. What about Patton?"

"I don't know much more than I told you over the telephone, but I want to work out a plan of campaign."

"All right," Perry Mason said, "here's the plan of campaign. You've got your car here?"

"Yes."

"You get in it and go on out to the Holliday Apartments. I've got a taxicab waiting out here. I'll go out in it. You may make a little better time in your car than the cab, so you'd better give me a start of about five minutes. I'll go out there and break the ice. You come busting into the apartment without knocking. I'll try and arrange things so the door is open."

"What do I do after I come in?" Paul Drake inquired.

"You follow my lead," Perry Mason said. "I'm going to start browbeating him. He'll either get frightened or righteously indignant, one of the two. You can tell which it is when you open the door.

"You can pretend you haven't got any connection with me, if you want to. Or you can put up any kind of a stall you want. Bradbury is going to be at my office within half an hour with original newspapers that we can use any way we want to. We can tell him that part of the newspaper subscription list went through the mail, and that therefore he'd used the mails to defraud."

"That'll be a good line," Drake said. "We should have the newspapers with us."

"I know it," Mason said, "but Bradbury forgot them and I didn't want to wait. Della Street is in the office, all ready to grab a taxi and come out as soon as we get him softened up a bit. He'll probably be hard at first, and I don't want Della to hear what goes on.

"Now, remember that I'm to take the general lead, but we can pull almost anything we want to. The district attorney can't use improper methods to get a confession; but we can use almost anything we want to get a confession. And then he can confirm it later on to the district attorney."

"And you're going to try to make him admit that his intention was to defraud?" asked the detective.

"That's the gist of the whole business," Perry Mason said. "We keep plugging away at him until we get that admission. After we get it, we don't care what happens."

"All right," Paul Drake said, "let's go. I'll give you five minutes. It'll take you almost twenty minutes to get out there."

"Not much over fifteen," Mason said. "You just give me five minutes' start, and don't worry about the time at the other end."

Paul Drake nodded, motioned to the attendant at the counter.

"A bromo seltzer," he said.

Perry Mason turned and flagged his taxicab from the opposite curb. As the cab swung around to him, he said, "The Holliday Apartments on Maple Avenue; 3508 is the number. Step on it."

He settled back in the cushions of the cab as the vehicle lurched into motion, and lit a fresh cigarette from the butt of his old one. He sat perfectly calm and steady, with no outward indication of tension or nervousness. He gave the impression of a fighter who would jockey his adversary about with the utmost patience until there was an opportunity to end the fight with one terrific punch.

He was just finishing his cigarette when the cab slowed down and pulled toward the curb.

Perry Mason leaned forward and tapped on the glass. As the driver turned and slid the glass partition back, Perry Mason said. "Don't stop right in front of the Holliday Apartments. Better stop half a block this side."

The driver nodded, crossed an intersection and pulled in toward the curb.