agreement to fatten herself up and go to South America to lead an immoral life. The poor kid is hysterical. I tried to talk to her but she wouldn't let the words get through. I told her to come here at once."
"Did she say she would?"
"She didn't say anything except what a mess she'd be in if Boring let anyone know she'd signed a contract to become a quote white slave unquote."
"Well," Mason said, "under the circumstances, I think we should stay here in the suite until Dianne shows up. Did she tell Foster anything about her father?"
"Apparently," Della Street said, "Foster is overlooking the obvious. He was trying to get Dianne to talk about her family, about her father's brothers and sisters, about her mother's relatives. He's looking for some distant tie-in, some obscure relative she has lost track of who could have died and left her a fortune that no one knows about.
"How did you come out with Winlock? Any luck?"
"We hit pay dirt, Della."
"Then, Dianne is his daughter?"
"Yes. She's his daughter and she's a blackmailer's bonanza."
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"Throw some of my weight around," Mason said. "I have three objectives. First, to safeguard Dianne's interests; second, to keep Foster from finding out the facts; third, to scare the living hell out of a blackmailer so he'll become a fugitive from justice."
"And then what?" Della Street asked.
"Boring has ten thousand dollars blackmail money. I don't know whether we can prove it so it will stand up in court, but he undoubtedly has the ten thousand dollars in cash in his possession. He can't explain how he got it.
"Winlock is sitting on the edge of a volcano. I don't know just what he's worth but I imagine we can make a deal with him by which Dianne can get at least a half million dollars in return for not blowing the whistle-but before we make any settlement with Winlock, we'll find out just how much is involved. I think when Dianne knows the facts, she'll be inclined to be charitable, but there's the emotional shock which has to be cushioned."
"When will she know the facts?" Della Street asked.
"Just as soon as I see her," Mason said. "She's my client. I'm her attorney. My knowledge is her knowledge. I can tell her what I know in confidence and then we'll work out the best course of action, but I have her emotions to consider."
"We were," Della Street reminded him, "talking about dinner."
"I think they have excellent room service here," Mason said. "We'll have a big porterhouse steak, with baked potatoes and sour cream, tomato and avocado salad, Thousand Island dressing, and-"
"Heavens!" Della Street said. "Are you trying to make a Dianne Alder out of me? Am I supposed to put on twelve pounds?"
Mason said, "You're working for a fiend in human form. I'm fattening you up for the South American market."
"My resistance has turned to putty," Della Street said. "I'm unable to resist the thought of savory food… Suppose Dianne comes in while we're waiting or while we're eating?"
"That's the idea of the big porterhouse steak," Mason said. "We'll have it big enough so we can put in an extra plate and feed Dianne."
"If you're going to feed her," Della Street said, "you'd better order a double chocolate malted milk and some mince pie alamode on the side."
"And if Dianne shouldn't show up?" Mason asked. "I suppose you could-"
Della Street threw up her hands. "Don't do it," she said. "I might not be able to resist."
Mason looked at his watch. "Well," he said, "I think Dianne will probably be in. Ring the registration desk and see if she's here or has a reservation, Della, and get room service and have the food sent up here in fortyfive minutes."
Della Street inquired for Dianne Alder, found out that she was not registered at the hotel, contacted room service and ordered the meal.
While they were waiting, Mason put through a call to Paul Drake. "Anything new at your end, Paul?"
"Things have simmered down here."
"Dianne is up here," Mason said.
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