her.
"And you don't want that Celane woman to know anything about who Paul Drake is?"
"Get this straight," Perry Mason told her. "I don't want anyone to know who Drake is. As far as anyone who comes into the office is concerned, Drake is a client who is waiting to see me."
"Okay," she said.
She paused for a few moments, watching him with eyes that made no effort to conceal their concern.
He grinned reassuringly.
"Don't worry," he said, "it's okay."
"You're not getting in trouble?" she asked.
"I don't think so."
"Is Miss Celane?"
"She's in already – up to her neck."
"Does she know it?"
"I think so."
"You won't let her drag you into it?"
He shook his head slowly.
"No," he said, "I don't think so. I can't tell just yet."
"When can you tell?" she asked.
"Not until Miss Celane tells me the truth."
"When will that be?"
"Not until she gets worse frightened than she is now."
Della Street frowned, then said, quickly: "Suppose we frighten her?"
Perry Mason shook his head and smiled.
"No," he said, slowly, "I don't think we'll have to."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
PERRY MASON, thumbs hooked in the armholes of his vest, paced back and forth across the floor of his private office.
Frances Celane, perched in the big black leather chair which she had occupied on her first visit to the office, regarded him with eyes that moved steadily back and forth, following the pacing of the lawyer.
"Well," she said at length, "you haven't asked me anything about why I wanted to see you."
"I don't have to," he said, "I know what's happening better than you do. What I'm trying to do is to think far enough ahead so I can find the proper place to head them off."
"I'm in an awful mess," she said.
"Of course you are," he snapped, and resumed his steady pacing of the floor.
There was a period of silence, then he paused in his walk to plant his feet far apart and stare down at her.
"Where did you get that money you gave me?" he asked.
"Just as I told you before, I got the money from my uncle," she said, in a thin, weak voice.
"Before he was murdered or afterwards?" pressed Perry Mason.
"Before."
"How much before?"
"Not very much before. That is, just before Mr. Crinston came to the house."
"What happened?"
"There was forty-eight thousand dollars," she said. "He gave it to me, and told me he was sorry he'd been holding out my regular allowance. He said he'd decided to change his mind."
"Had he accused you of being blackmailed before that?"
"No."
"And he gave you this money in cash?"
"Yes."
"You came to him and told him that you needed cash?"
"I told him that I simply had to have some money and have it right away."
"And he didn't say anything about you being blackmailed?"
"No."
"Were you being blackmailed?"
She bit her lip and looked down at the floor.
"Is that any of your business?" she asked.
"Yes," he said.
"Yes," she said, "I was being blackmailed."
"All right," he said. "Was it by the housekeeper?"
She started, and raised her eyes to his with a look of alarm.
"How did you know?"
"I suspected," he said. "How much did you give her?"
"I gave her all of it," she said. "All except the ten thousand dollars that I gave you."
"Does that mean," he said, "that you haven't any of those thousand dollar bills in your possession?"
"That's right."
"Now listen. Let's not have any misunderstanding about this, and let's get it straight. You're in a jam, and I'm going to get you out, but it's important I know exactly what happened with that money. You haven't any of it in your possession?"
"Not a bit," she said.
Perry Mason took the ten thousand dollars which she had given him from his wallet and fingered the bills.
"You knew," he asked, "that all of these bills were numbered consecutively, and that various banking institutions in this city had been given a list of those numbers?"
"No," she said in a wan, frightened voice.
"Well," he told her, "that's a fact. Thousand dollar bills aren't so numerous but what they attract
"And you don't want that Celane woman to know anything about who Paul Drake is?"
"Get this straight," Perry Mason told her. "I don't want anyone to know who Drake is. As far as anyone who comes into the office is concerned, Drake is a client who is waiting to see me."
"Okay," she said.
She paused for a few moments, watching him with eyes that made no effort to conceal their concern.
He grinned reassuringly.
"Don't worry," he said, "it's okay."
"You're not getting in trouble?" she asked.
"I don't think so."
"Is Miss Celane?"
"She's in already – up to her neck."
"Does she know it?"
"I think so."
"You won't let her drag you into it?"
He shook his head slowly.
"No," he said, "I don't think so. I can't tell just yet."
"When can you tell?" she asked.
"Not until Miss Celane tells me the truth."
"When will that be?"
"Not until she gets worse frightened than she is now."
Della Street frowned, then said, quickly: "Suppose we frighten her?"
Perry Mason shook his head and smiled.
"No," he said, slowly, "I don't think we'll have to."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
PERRY MASON, thumbs hooked in the armholes of his vest, paced back and forth across the floor of his private office.
Frances Celane, perched in the big black leather chair which she had occupied on her first visit to the office, regarded him with eyes that moved steadily back and forth, following the pacing of the lawyer.
"Well," she said at length, "you haven't asked me anything about why I wanted to see you."
"I don't have to," he said, "I know what's happening better than you do. What I'm trying to do is to think far enough ahead so I can find the proper place to head them off."
"I'm in an awful mess," she said.
"Of course you are," he snapped, and resumed his steady pacing of the floor.
There was a period of silence, then he paused in his walk to plant his feet far apart and stare down at her.
"Where did you get that money you gave me?" he asked.
"Just as I told you before, I got the money from my uncle," she said, in a thin, weak voice.
"Before he was murdered or afterwards?" pressed Perry Mason.
"Before."
"How much before?"
"Not very much before. That is, just before Mr. Crinston came to the house."
"What happened?"
"There was forty-eight thousand dollars," she said. "He gave it to me, and told me he was sorry he'd been holding out my regular allowance. He said he'd decided to change his mind."
"Had he accused you of being blackmailed before that?"
"No."
"And he gave you this money in cash?"
"Yes."
"You came to him and told him that you needed cash?"
"I told him that I simply had to have some money and have it right away."
"And he didn't say anything about you being blackmailed?"
"No."
"Were you being blackmailed?"
She bit her lip and looked down at the floor.
"Is that any of your business?" she asked.
"Yes," he said.
"Yes," she said, "I was being blackmailed."
"All right," he said. "Was it by the housekeeper?"
She started, and raised her eyes to his with a look of alarm.
"How did you know?"
"I suspected," he said. "How much did you give her?"
"I gave her all of it," she said. "All except the ten thousand dollars that I gave you."
"Does that mean," he said, "that you haven't any of those thousand dollar bills in your possession?"
"That's right."
"Now listen. Let's not have any misunderstanding about this, and let's get it straight. You're in a jam, and I'm going to get you out, but it's important I know exactly what happened with that money. You haven't any of it in your possession?"
"Not a bit," she said.
Perry Mason took the ten thousand dollars which she had given him from his wallet and fingered the bills.
"You knew," he asked, "that all of these bills were numbered consecutively, and that various banking institutions in this city had been given a list of those numbers?"
"No," she said in a wan, frightened voice.
"Well," he told her, "that's a fact. Thousand dollar bills aren't so numerous but what they attract
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