"I don't care what you do, nor whom you hire," Matilda Benson said. "That's up to you. And don't think this is going to be an easy job. You're going up against a crook who is smart as a steel trap and absolutely ruthless."

Mason said, "I'm afraid you're making a mountain out of a molehill."

"No," she said, "you're the one who's making a molehill out of a mountain. I'll pay you a retainer of twenty-five hundred dollars. I'll pay you another twenty-five hundred when you get those IOU's, if you can get them in such a way that my name doesn't figure in it. And I'll pay all your expenses, including whatever you have to pay out for detectives and whatever you have to pay to get those IOU's. That's fair, isn't it?"

Mason watched her with a puzzled frown.

"Could I," he asked, "go out to call on Grieb and tell him I was acting as Sylvia's attorney and…"

"No, because he'd tell Sylvia, and Sylvia mustn't know anything about it."

"And you don't want Grieb to know that you're interested in it?"

"No. Aside from that, the sky's the limit. You can work any scheme on him you want to. But don't let him know you're willing to pay a bonus, because the minute you do he'll stall you off until he can get to Frank Oxman for a bigger bid and start playing you, one against the other."

"That," Mason admitted, "complicates matters."

"Of course it complicates matters. I haven't the faintest idea how you're going about it. But I do know that if anyone can handle those two crooks, you're the one to do it."

"You don't think they've approached Oxman yet?"

"Not yet."

Mason stared thoughtfully at the carpet for a moment, then raised his eyes and said smilingly, "Let's go."

Matilda Benson pulled a sheaf of hundred-dollar bills from her handbag. "This," she said, "is the money you can use in taking up the IOU's. You'll have to pay cash. The balance will apply on your fees and expenses."

Mason took the money. "My secretary will give you a receipt, Mrs. Benson, and…"

"I don't want a receipt," she said.

The lawyer regarded her quizzically.

"You see," she said, "I know all about the person with whom I'm dealing. And," she added with a chuckle, "that's more than you can say, Mr. Perry Mason. Good day!"

PERRY MASON, thumbs hooked through the armholes of his vest, paced his office, glancing impatiently at his wristwatch. "You left word for Paul Drake to come in as soon as he came to his office?" he asked.

Della Street nodded. "How are you going about it, Chief?" she asked.

"I've got a scheme," he told her, "that may work. We'll lay a trap and see if Sam Grieb walks into it."

"Suppose he doesn't?"

Mason grinned and said, "Then we'll think up another scheme."

"I don't suppose," she said, her eyes wistful, "that it would do any good to ask you to be careful?"

"None whatever."

"Why can't you let Paul Drake handle those gamblers?"

"Because my client doesn't want Paul, she wants me. I collected the fee and I take the responsibility."

"Most generals," she pointed out, "don't go into the front-line trenches."

"And thereby miss all the fun," he told her.

She nodded slowly. "Yes," she agreed, "life in this office never lacks for excitement."

"Like it, Della?"

"Of course I like it."

"Then why adopt that hang-your-clothes-on-a-hickory-limb-but-don't-go-near-the-water attitude?"

"Just my maternal instinct, Chief."

"You're too young to have maternal instincts."

"You'd be surprised. There's Paul Drake at the door, now." Della Street crossed the office, opened a door and nodded to the tall man who grinned down at her.

Drake's mouth twisted into a carp-like grin as he closed the door behind him and said, "My God, Perry, don't tell me you're starting a new case. Or did you want to conduct a postmortem on that other one?"

Mason said, "The other one's finished, Paul. This is a new one. Do you own any evening clothes?"

The detective chuckled. "Sure, I list them in my office inventory as a disguise. Why?"

"Know a man by the name of Sam Grieb?"

"You mean the gambler?"

"Yes."

"Know of him. I don't know him personally. He runs this gambling ship, The Horn of Plenty, which is anchored out beyond the twelve-mile limit. Every once in a while they try to control him by passing ordinances about the speed boats that run out there, but they don't get very far with it."

"What's his reputation, Paul?" Mason asked.

"Hard as steel and cold as concrete," the detective said. "He's a good business man, and he's reported to be making money. I can find out all about him within twenty-four hours if you want."

"No," Mason said, "that isn't going to be necessary, Paul. Here's the sketch. A married woman, name of Sylvia Oxman, has left IOU's with Grieb. These IOU's amount to somewhere around seven thousand dollars. She hasn't the money to take them up right now. And her husband's willing to pay a bonus to get his hands on them. That's all anyone has told me, and that's all I'm telling you. I did a little thinking. You can do the same."

"Well," Drake said, "if Grieb wants to peddle those IOU's to the husband, there isn't any way we can stop him, is there?… Unless the woman went out there and paid off the IOU's and demanded possession of them."

Mason grinned. "Looking at it from a purely ethical and legal standpoint, Paul, you may be right."

The detective crossed his fingers. "I suppose you've hatched out some scheme by which we'll just scrape past the walls of State's Prison, if we're lucky, and be corpses or convicts if we're not. Well, Perry, count me out. I've had enough."

Mason said, "Now, listen, Paul, there's no law against a man taking any name he wants to, provided he doesn't do it for the purpose of defrauding some other person. Now I want you to go down to a bank where you're not personally known and deposit one thousand dollars in the name of Frank Oxman. Register your signature as Frank Oxman and get a book of blank checks."

Drake straightened to rigid attention and said suspiciously, "Then what?"

"Then," Mason said, "we go out aboard the gambling ship and you lose a couple hundred bucks gambling. You make out a check for five hundred dollars, sign it 'Frank Oxman' and ask the croupier if he'll accept it. The croupier will send the check in to Sam Grieb for an okay. Grieb will figure Frank Oxman has come aboard and that it'll be a swell chance to sell him the IOU's at a bonus. He'll ask you to step into the office to be identified and start asking you questions. You can pretend that you're afraid he's trying to trap you, and deny that you're the Frank Oxman he thinks you are; but you'll do it in such a way that it will convince Grieb you're lying. Then Grieb will make us an offer on Sylvia Oxman's IOU's.

"Now get this sketch, Paul. If Oxman himself isn't willing to pay a premium for those IOU's, no one is. So when Grieb suggests that you take them up, you show a big lack of enthusiasm. Finally offer him a five-hundred-dollar or a thousand-dollar bonus and say that's as high as you'll go. We'll go another five hundred if we have to."

"Wait a minute," Drake protested, "ain't that getting pretty close to the line, Perry? I don't want to get hooked."

"Bosh," Mason said. "I'll be with you all the time. You'll tell him repeatedly that you're not the man he thinks you are, but that you might be interested in buying those IOU's."

Drake slowly shook his head. "No dice, Perry."

Mason said, "Okay, I'll do the talking. I'll be along with you as your friend, and I'll do all the talking."

"I still don't like it," Drake said.

"You'd like five hundred dollars, wouldn't you?"

"Yes."

"Okay," Mason told him, "we'll leave here about five-thirty. I'll pick you up in my car."