Nye grinned, said, "You know where you can reach me if you want me," and went out.
For some ten minutes Mason paced the floor thoughtfully, smoking a cigarette, his head bent forward in frowning concentration.
Then the chimes sounded on the door.
Mason crossed over and opened it.
George Winlock stood on the threshold. "May I come in?" he asked.
"Certainly," Mason said. "Come right in, sit down."
Winlock entered, seated himself, regarded Mason thoughtfully from behind the tinted lenses of his glasses.
Mason said, "You don't need to wear those now, you know."
"I've worn them for fourteen years," Winlock said. "I really do need them now."
"You had something in mind?" Mason asked.
Winlock said, "I have a problem that's bothering me."
"What is it?"
"Dianne."
"What about her?"
"I have been pretty much of a heel as far as she is concerned."
"Do you expect me to argue that point with you?"
"Frankly I do not, but I want to make some sort of settlement, some sort of restitution."
"Such as what?"
"Property."
"A girl who has been attached to her father and then is led to believe that her father is dead, and subsequently finds out that he has been alive all of the time but hasn't cared enough about her to lift his finger to get in touch with her, is apt to have lost a good deal of her filial devotion."
"I can understand that. I thought perhaps you and I could discuss the property end of the situation and then later on, perhaps, Dianne could be made to see things from my viewpoint and realize that under the circumstances there wasn't much else I could have done."
"I'm afraid that's a viewpoint that will be pretty hard for her to grasp."
"However," Winlock said, "I see no reason for airing all of this in the press."
"It will be uncovered."
"I don't think so."
"I do," Mason said. "Montrose Foster, president of the Missing Heirs and Lost Estates, Inc., is on your trail."
"Exactly."
"You knew that?" Mason asked.
"I know it now."
"You can't hush anything up with Foster nosing around, prying into the background."
"I'm not entirely certain you're right," Winlock said. "Foster is basing his investigation upon the premise Dianne has some relative who died and left an estate in which she could share. Actually there was such a relative, a distant relative of mine, and the estate is small. I feel Foster can be handled in such a way he will go chasing off on a false trail."
"I see," Mason said.
"That leaves you," Winlock said.
"And Dianne," Mason reminded him.
"Dianne is a very considerate young woman. She isn't going to do anything that would ruin the lives of other people."
"Meaning the woman who is known as your wife?"
"Yes. I repeat, that leaves you, Mr. Mason."
"It leaves me."
"I could arrange to see that you received rather a large fee for representing Dianne, perhaps as much as a hundred thousand dollars."
"I'm representing Dianne," Mason said. "I'll do what's best for her."
"It won't be best for her to make a disclosure of my past and her relationship to me."
"How do you know it won't?"
"It would simply complicate matters and get her involved."
Mason said, "You're pretty influential here. The police have received an anonymous tip to question Dianne. You should have enough influence to get the police to disregard that anonymous tip. You don't want her questioned-now."
Winlock thought for a moment, then said, "Get her out of town."
"And then?" Mason asked.
"That's all there'll be to it."
"You can control the police investigation?"
"Within reasonable limits and indirectly, yes."
"That leaves the question of her property rights," Mason said.
"Her legal rights to any property are exceedingly nebulous."
"I don't think so," Mason said. "In this state, property acquired after marriage is community property."
"But I have been separated from my first wife for more than fourteen years."
"Forget the expression, your first wife," Mason said. "You had only one wife."
"Would that have anything to do with the subject under discussion?"
"A great deal."
"I'm afraid I fail to follow you, Mr. Mason. Eunice Alder is now dead. Property acquired during marriage is community property, but on the death of the wife that property automatically vests in the husband, subject, of course, to certain formalities. If you had approached me prior to the death of Eunice, the situation might have been very different. As matters now stand, I am quite definitely in the saddle."
"You may think you're in the saddle," Mason said, "but you're riding a bucking bronco and you can be thrown for quite a loss. Under the law the wife's interest in the community vests in the husband on her death unless she makes a will disposing of her interest in the community property. Your wife made such a will. Dianne is the beneficiary."
Winlock frowned thoughtfully. "How much would you want for Dianne?" he asked.
"How much have you got?"
"It depends on how it is evaluated."
"How do you evaluate it?"
"Perhaps three million, if you consider all of my equities."
"All right, what's your proposition?"
"I'll liquidate enough holdings to give Dianne five hundred thousand dollars. I will give her fifty thousand dollars in cash. I will pay her a hundred thousand dollars within ninety days. I'll pay the balance within a year."
"And in return for that?"
"In return for that I want absolute, complete silence about our relationship, about my past."
"All right," Mason said. "You're of age. You're supposed to know what you're doing. Now I'll tell you about Dianne. I'm not going to give you any answer. I'm not going to make you any proposition. I'm going to think things over and I'm going to play the cards in the way that will be in the best interests of Dianne Alder.
"If the police find out about her connection with Harrison T. Boring and question her about her business with Boring, it may well be to Dianne's advantage to disclose the relationship with you, and the whole background."
"Just so I can have the picture straight," Winlock said, "will you summarize briefly Dianne's business with Boring, just what it was?"
Mason said, "Boring found out about the relationship. He came to Dianne with a lot of legal hocus-pocus pretending he was interested in her as a model who was to appear on television and in movies in connection with the introduction of a new style in women's garments.
"Back of all that legal hocus-pocus, however, and the bait of television appearances, was the hook that he was to get one half of all of her gross income from any source, inheritance or otherwise. In return for that he was to pay her a hundred dollars a week.
"Last Saturday he sent her notice that the payments would be discontinued. That means he decided it would be better and more profitable as far as he was concerned to sink his hooks into you for blackmail rather than to let Dianne collect and then engage in litigation as to whether his contract was any good, whether it had been entered into under false pretenses, etc., etc.
"Dianne consulted me about the termination of the contract and the loss of the hundred-dollar-a-week income. She knew nothing about the reason back of the contract.
"I had my suspicions aroused because I was having Harrison Boring shadowed, and so I came to you earlier this evening. Dianne knew nothing about what I was doing. When Montrose Foster found her and convinced her that in order to protect her good name she must get the other signed copy of the contract back from Boring, she very foolishly failed to consult me but tried to take matters into her own hands."