"Come in here," she said, "and please talk with Dick as soon as you can."
Perry Mason entered the outer office. A slender youth of twentyone or twentytwo jerked open the door from the inner office and said, "Look here, Mom, I'm not going to wait…" He broke off as he saw Perry Mason. His hands, which had been extended in front of him, dropped to his sides.
"Dick," she said, "I want you to meet Perry Mason, the lawyer. This is Dick Basset, my son."
The young man stared at Perry Mason with wide, deep, brown eyes. His face was deadwhite. The lips of a sensitive, wellformed mouth were clamped into a firm line. Mason extended his hand easily.
"Basset," he said, "I'm glad to know you."
Basset hesitated a moment, regarded Mason's outstretched hand, shifted something from his right hand to his left, and stepped forward.
A small object dropped to the floor. He grabbed Mason's hand, shook it, and said, "Are you representing Mother?"
Mason nodded.
"She's been through hell," the boy said. "I've kept out of it long enough. Tonight I…"
He stopped as he saw Perry Mason's eyes come to rest on the thing which had dropped to the carpet.
"Cartridge?" Mason asked.
The boy stooped to recover it, but Mason was first. He picked up a.38 cartridge and stared at it speculatively as he held it in his outstretched hand.
"Why the munitions?" he asked.
"That's my business," Basset said.
Mason reached out, grabbed the boy's left hand, pushed the fingers open before young Basset could define his intentions, disclosed several more.38 caliber shells. One cartridge was empty.
"Where's the gun?" he asked.
"Don't try any of that stuff!" Basset flared. "You can't…"
Perry Mason grabbed the young man's shoulder, jerked him forward, spun him around, and, at the same time, slipped an exploring right hand beneath the back of the coat.
Dick Basset tried to struggle, braced himself, and jerked free, but not before Perry Mason had pulled the.38 caliber revolver from the right hip pocket.
Mason broke the gun open. The cylinder was unloaded. He smelled of the muzzle.
"Smells as though it had been fired," he said.
Dick Basset stared at him in whitefaced silence. Mrs. Basset jumped forward, wrapped her hands around the gun.
"Oh, please, , she said to Perry Mason. "I wondered where that was. Please give it to me."
Mason kept his hold on the gun.
"What's the idea?" he asked.
"I want it."
"Whose is it?"
"I don't know."
Mason looked at young Basset and said, "Where did you get it?"
Basset remained silent.
Mason shook his head at Mrs. Basset and gently disengaged her hands.
"I think," he said, "it will be safer with me for a while. Now, what's happened?"
She released her hold on the gun reluctantly, and said to the boy, "You show him, Dick."
Dick Basset pulled aside a Japanese screen, disclosing a corner of the room which had been concealed from the lawyer's gaze.
A broadhipped woman with faded red hair was bending over someone who lay on a dilapidated couch. She didn't look up as the screen was moved, but said over her shoulder, "I think she's going to be all right in a few minutes. Is this the doctor?"
The lawyer walked to one side so that he could look past the redheaded woman, to see the figure which lay on the couch.
She was a brunette in the middle twenties, attired in a dark suit. The blouse had been opened at the neck to disclose the white curve of a throat and breast. Wet towels lay on the couch near her head. A bottle of smelling salts and a small bottle of brandy were nestled in among the wet towels. The redheaded woman was chafing the girl's wrists.
"Who is she?" asked Perry Mason.
Mrs. Basset said slowly, "My daughterinlaw—Dick's wife. But no one knows it yet. She's going under her maiden name."
Dick Basset swung around as though about to say something, but remained silent.
Perry Mason indicated a bruise on the side of the young woman's head.
"What happened?"
"My husband struck her."
"Why?"
"I don't know why."
"What with?"
"I don't know. He struck her and then ran out of the house."
"Where did he go?"
"His car was in front. He jumped in it and drove away, going like mad."
"Was the chauffeur with him?"
"No, he was alone in the car."
"Did you see him?"
"Yes."
"Where were you?"
"I saw him from a window in the upper story."
"You know it was his car?"
"Yes. It was his Packard."
"Did he have any bags with him?"
"No, no bags."
The young woman on the couch stirred and moaned.
"She's coming to," the redheaded woman said.
Perry Mason leaned forward. Mrs. Basset stepped to the head of the couch, smoothed back the girl's wet hair, stroked her fingers over the closed eyes, and said, "Hazel, dear, can you hear me?"
The lids fluttered upward, disclosing dark eyes that stared dazedly. The girl retched, moaned and turned to her side.
"She's going to be sick, and then she'll be all right," the older woman said, nodding her head at Sylvia Basset, and turning to stare curiously at Perry Mason.
Perry Mason faced Mrs. Basset.
"Do you want me to take charge of this thing?" he asked.
"In what way?"
"Do you want me to handle it the way I think best?"
"Yes."
Perry Mason stepped to the telephone which was on the battered, cigaretteburnt desk, and said, "Give me police headquarters… Hello, headquarters? This is Richard Basset at 9682 Franklin Street. There's been some trouble out here. I think my father's been drinking, but he's clubbed a woman quite badly…
"Yes, it's my father. We want him arrested, of course. He's crazy. We can't tell what he'll do next. Please send officers at once… Yes, one of the radio cars is all right, only get here at once, because he may kill someone."
Perry Mason dropped the receiver on its hook, stared at Mrs. Basset.
"You," he said, "keep out of it."
He turned to the boy.
"You go ahead and take the initiative in this thing. I gather that you side with your mother, and against your father?"
Mrs. Basset said, "Of course, it will come out during the investigation that Hartley isn't Dick's father."
"Who was?"
"He's my son by a—a previous marriage."
"How long have you been married to Hartley Basset?"
"Five years."
Dick Basset said bitterly, "Five years of torture."
The woman on the couch stirred and moaned again. She said something that was unintelligible, then coughed and struggled to a sitting position.
"Where am I?" she asked.
"It's all right, Hazel," Mrs. Basset said. "Everything's going to be all right. There's nothing to worry about. We've got a lawyer here, and the police are coming."
The young woman closed her eyes, sighed, and said, "Oh, let me think—let me think."
Mrs. Basset moved close to Perry Mason.
"Please," she said in an undertone, "let me have the gun. I don't want you to have it."
"Why?"
"Because I think we should hide it."
"You're not supposed to have a gun," Mason told her.
"It isn't mine."
"Suppose the police find it?"
"They won't find it if you'll only give it to me. Please."
Perry Mason pulled the gun from his hip pocket and handed it to her. She dropped it down the front of her dress and held it there with her hand.
"You can't leave it there," Mason said. "If you're going to hide it, go ahead and hide it."
"Wait," she told him. "You don't understand. I'll take care of it…"