"I think what I said was," Mason observed, "that my client had changed his mind about requiring any money. I think I also told you that if you should say Frank Oxman had been out here gambling you might put yourself in rather an embarrassing position. I pointed out very clearly to you, Grieb, that my client didn't come out here for the purpose of gambling."
"Sure, sure, I know," Grieb said affably. "We understand your position perfectly, Mason."
Duncan settled back in his chair. The gold teeth gradually came into evidence as his lips relaxed into his habitual smile.
"Talk any business, Sammy?" he asked.
"Not yet," Grieb said. "I was waiting for you to come aboard."
Duncan fished a cigar from his pocket, clipped off the end with a penknife, scraped a match across his shoe and said, "Okay, Sammy, I'm here."
"You want to do the talking?" Grieb asked.
"No, Sammy, you do it."
Grieb faced Mason. "Sylvia Oxman's been giving us quite a play lately. We looked her up and found her husband's name was Frank Oxman. A little bird told us Frank Oxman was maybe going to file a divorce action and would like to get some evidence that his wife had been squandering her time and money gambling, and therefore wasn't a fit person to have the custody of their child and couldn't be trusted with money in a guardianship proceeding. Would you know anything about that?"
Mason said cautiously, "No, I wouldn't know anything about that."
"Well, your client would."
"Let's leave my client out of it, please."
"Well," Grieb said, "we always like to co-operate. Now, you came out here looking for evidence. Perhaps we could help you out a little bit."
"In what way?" Mason asked.
"By giving you some evidence."
"On what terms?"
"Well," Grieb said, flashing a swift glance at his partner, "we'd have to discuss the terms."
"Your idea of evidence might not be my idea of evidence," Mason said.
"The evidence is all right," Grieb rejoined. "It's just a question of what you boys would be willing to do."
"We'd want to see the evidence," Mason said.
Grieb looked at Duncan significantly and jerked his head toward the vault. Duncan, his face still wearing a set smile, crossed to the vault and stepped inside. The three men in the room sat in tense silence. After a few seconds there was the peculiar whooshing sound made by air escaping as the door of the cannonball safe was slammed shut. Duncan emerged from the vault carrying three oblongs of paper which he slid across the glass top of the big desk.
Grieb's diamonds again made glittering streaks as he scooped up the oblongs of paper and said, "Three demand notes, signed by Sylvia Oxman, and totaling seven thousand five hundred dollars."
Mason frowned. "We hadn't figured on anything like this," he said.
Grieb's voice was harsh with greed. "Figure on it now, then."
Mason pursed his lips. "I suppose," he ventured, "you boys want something."
Grieb moved impatiently. "Don't be so God damn cagey. You've drawn cards in this game but we hold all the aces. Quit stalling. You're going to have to come across-and like it."
Duncan said chidingly, "Now, Sammy!"
Mason said, "I'd want to inspect these."
Grieb spread them out on the desk, holding them flat against the glass, his extended fingers pressing firmly against the upper edges. "Look 'em over," he invited grimly.
Mason objected. "That's not what I'd call inspecting them."
"That's what I call inspecting them," Grieb said.
Duncan said soothingly, "Now, Sammy. Now, Sammy. Take it easy."
"I'm taking it easy," Grieb said. "There was a check on this desk and he picked it up to 'inspect' it. Now it's torn in pieces and is in this guy's pocket."
"The check was different," Mason said.
"Well, I didn't like the way you did it," Grieb told him.
Mason's eyes were cold. "No one asked you to," he said shortly.
Duncan interposed. "Now, wait a minute, boys. This isn't getting us anywhere."
Grieb's face darkened with rage. He picked up the oblongs of paper and said irritably, "That's the way he's been ever since he came in. You'd think he was God and I was some sort of a crook. To hell with him!"
Duncan moved over to the desk, extended his hands for the notes. His face still smiling, but his eyes were hard. "This is a business deal, Sammy," he said.
"It isn't with me," Grieb told him. "As far as I'm concerned, there's no dice. We're handing these guys a lawsuit on a silver platter and they're trying to make us come all the way. To hell with it."
Duncan said nothing, but stood by the desk, his hand extended. And after a moment, Grieb handed him the slips of paper and said, "All right, you do it, if you know so much about it."
Duncan handed one of the notes to the lawyer. "The other two," he said, "are like this."
"I'd want to see them all," Mason said, without reaching for the note.
"You can look them over one at a time," Duncan told him.
Drake said, "That's fair, Perry. We'll look them over one at a time."
Mason slowly extended his hand and took the oblong of paper. He and Drake studied it carefully while Duncan watched them with cold eyes over smiling lips. Grieb opened the left-hand drawer of the desk and dropped his hand casually into the interior.
The note was on a printed form such as might have been readily obtained in any stationery store. It was in an amount of twenty-five hundred dollars, signed "Sylvia Oxman," and in the blank left for the name of the payee had been filled in, in the same feminine handwriting, the letters, "IOU." The date showed that the note was sixty days old.
Mason handed it back to Duncan. Duncan handed him another one and said, "This one was made a month earlier," and as Mason finished his inspection and returned it, handed him the third, saying, "This is the first one."
As Mason returned the IOU to Duncan, Grieb removed his hand from the desk drawer and slammed it shut. Mason said softly, "So what?"
"Well," Duncan said, "you're a lawyer. You don't need me to tell you what those things are."
Grieb said, "We know what those things are worth."
Duncan 's voice was soothing. "With those in your hand, Mr. Mason," he said, "you'd hold all the trumps. A court would never let a woman handle a kid's money if she was a fiend for gambling. Suppose you make us an offer."
"Offer, hell," Grieb interrupted. "We'll set the price on those, Charlie. This means a lot to Oxman. It's just what he's been looking for, and he can't get to first base without them. They've been snooping around, trying to get some of our men to talk. You know as well as I do how much chance they stand of doing that. We hold the cards and we'll call the trumps." Mason got to his feet.
"Now, wait a minute," Duncan said. "Don't be like that, Mason. My partner's hot-headed, that's all."
"He's not hot-headed, he's cold-hearted."
"Well, after all, it's a matter of business," Duncan pointed out.
Mason nodded. "Sure it is, but you're the ones who don't know it. Sylvia hasn't any money right now. She can't even pay the face of those notes. You think they're worth a lot to me and you think you can hold me up. That's where you're making a mistake. There isn't any competitive market. No one else gives a damn about them."
"Let's put 'em back in the safe, Duncan," Grieb said, "I don't like to do business with pikers."
"And," Mason told him steadily, "I don't like to do business with crooks."