attention when they're deposited, and it's almost necessary to take them to a bank to change them. Merchants don't ordinarily carry change for a thousand dollars in their tills."
Perry Mason went to the desk, picked up a long envelope of heavy manila paper, sealed the ten thousand dollars in currency in the envelope, unscrewed the cap from a fountain pen, and addressed the envelope to Carl S. Belknap, 3298 15th Street, Denver, Colorado, and jabbed his forefinger on the button on the side of his desk, which summoned his secretary.
When Della Street opened the door, Perry Mason tossed her the envelope with a careless gesture.
"Stamp and mail this," he said. "First Class."
She looked at the address.
"I didn't know we had any correspondence with a Mr. Belknap," she said.
"We have now," he told her. "Send it registered mail."
She nodded, flashed one swiftly appraising glance at Frances Celane, then slipped back through the door to the outer office.
Perry Mason turned to Frances Celane.
"All right," he said. "That envelope will be in the mail for the next few days. Eventually it will come back to me. In the meantime, nobody is going to find that money on me. Now why didn't you tell the police about that in the first place?"
Her eyes suddenly snapped black fire.
"That's my business!" she said. "I hired you as an attorney to represent my interests. Don't think that you can stand there and tell me what I'm going to do, and what I'm not going to do…"
He took a stride toward her and said: "You're either going to control that temper, or you're going to march up the gallows and have a black bag put around your neck. Did you ever think of how you would like to be hung?"
She got to her feet and drew back her hand as though she intended to slap him.
"You've been a spoiled spitfire all your life," Perry Mason told her. "Now you're facing a situation you can't handle by yourself. Just as sure as you're standing there, you're going to be arrested within the next forty-eight hours, and the case that's going to be built up against you is going to be so black that I don't know whether I can get you out of it or not."
Sheer surprise pushed her rage to one side, and showed in her dark eyes.
"Arrested? Me, arrested?"
"Arrested," he told her, "for murder."
"Devoe was arrested for murder," she said. "He's the one that did it."
"Devoe didn't do it," said Perry Mason, "any more than I did. That is, if he did do it, no one is ever going to prove it. He's got an attorney that knows the ropes, and he's going to drag you into this."
"How do you know?" she asked.
"Because he was here in this office less than an hour ago and told me so."
She sank back in the chair and stared at him, all of the temper gone from her eyes, which were now dark and pathetic.
"What did he want?" she asked.
"Money," he said.
Her face showed a trace of relief.
"All right," she said. "We'll give it to him."
"We will not," he said.
"Why?"
"Because," he said, "he'd blackmail you to death. He doesn't know for sure that you are in a bad jam, but he suspects it. He wanted to make sure. If I'd talked terms with him, he'd have been sure. He's heard whispers somewhere. He wanted to verify them. If I'd given in to him on the money end of it, he'd have been sure."
"But," she asked, "what did you do?"
His voice was grim.
"I threw him out of the office," he said.
"How much does he know?" she asked.
"Not much, but he suspects a lot."
"I'm afraid of him," she said, in a voice that was almost a wail.
"You've got a right to be," he said. "Now I want to get at the bottom of this thing. Tell me exactly what happened when your uncle was murdered."
She took a deep breath and said in a low monotone, "I was in the house. I had had a quarrel with him. He had been very bitter, and I lost my temper and said things that hurt."
"You would," said the lawyer dryly.
"I did," she said, without expression.
There was a moment of silence.
"Go on," said the lawyer.
"He took
Perry Mason went to the desk, picked up a long envelope of heavy manila paper, sealed the ten thousand dollars in currency in the envelope, unscrewed the cap from a fountain pen, and addressed the envelope to Carl S. Belknap, 3298 15th Street, Denver, Colorado, and jabbed his forefinger on the button on the side of his desk, which summoned his secretary.
When Della Street opened the door, Perry Mason tossed her the envelope with a careless gesture.
"Stamp and mail this," he said. "First Class."
She looked at the address.
"I didn't know we had any correspondence with a Mr. Belknap," she said.
"We have now," he told her. "Send it registered mail."
She nodded, flashed one swiftly appraising glance at Frances Celane, then slipped back through the door to the outer office.
Perry Mason turned to Frances Celane.
"All right," he said. "That envelope will be in the mail for the next few days. Eventually it will come back to me. In the meantime, nobody is going to find that money on me. Now why didn't you tell the police about that in the first place?"
Her eyes suddenly snapped black fire.
"That's my business!" she said. "I hired you as an attorney to represent my interests. Don't think that you can stand there and tell me what I'm going to do, and what I'm not going to do…"
He took a stride toward her and said: "You're either going to control that temper, or you're going to march up the gallows and have a black bag put around your neck. Did you ever think of how you would like to be hung?"
She got to her feet and drew back her hand as though she intended to slap him.
"You've been a spoiled spitfire all your life," Perry Mason told her. "Now you're facing a situation you can't handle by yourself. Just as sure as you're standing there, you're going to be arrested within the next forty-eight hours, and the case that's going to be built up against you is going to be so black that I don't know whether I can get you out of it or not."
Sheer surprise pushed her rage to one side, and showed in her dark eyes.
"Arrested? Me, arrested?"
"Arrested," he told her, "for murder."
"Devoe was arrested for murder," she said. "He's the one that did it."
"Devoe didn't do it," said Perry Mason, "any more than I did. That is, if he did do it, no one is ever going to prove it. He's got an attorney that knows the ropes, and he's going to drag you into this."
"How do you know?" she asked.
"Because he was here in this office less than an hour ago and told me so."
She sank back in the chair and stared at him, all of the temper gone from her eyes, which were now dark and pathetic.
"What did he want?" she asked.
"Money," he said.
Her face showed a trace of relief.
"All right," she said. "We'll give it to him."
"We will not," he said.
"Why?"
"Because," he said, "he'd blackmail you to death. He doesn't know for sure that you are in a bad jam, but he suspects it. He wanted to make sure. If I'd talked terms with him, he'd have been sure. He's heard whispers somewhere. He wanted to verify them. If I'd given in to him on the money end of it, he'd have been sure."
"But," she asked, "what did you do?"
His voice was grim.
"I threw him out of the office," he said.
"How much does he know?" she asked.
"Not much, but he suspects a lot."
"I'm afraid of him," she said, in a voice that was almost a wail.
"You've got a right to be," he said. "Now I want to get at the bottom of this thing. Tell me exactly what happened when your uncle was murdered."
She took a deep breath and said in a low monotone, "I was in the house. I had had a quarrel with him. He had been very bitter, and I lost my temper and said things that hurt."
"You would," said the lawyer dryly.
"I did," she said, without expression.
There was a moment of silence.
"Go on," said the lawyer.
"He took
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