Mrs. Gentrie nodded.
Rebecca said, “There was something written on the top of that other tin on the inside. Mr. Mason discovered that.”
“I overlooked a bet there,” Tragg said, laughing. “Don’t ever underestimate the ability of Mr. Perry Mason. He’s a very shrewd, very adroit attorney. And is there a can opener here I can use, Mrs. Gentrie?”
“Yes. How about fingerprints?”
He shook his head. “Everyone of them that we can use seems to have been made by Hester. Apparently, whoever placed the tin there had first taken the precaution of wiping it free of fingerprints.”
“Well, a person couldn’t have put it up there without leaving some prints,” Rebecca said.
“Not unless he’d deliberately tried to avoid doing so,” Tragg said.
Mrs. Gentrie showed him the location of the can opener. Lieutenant Tragg fed the can into the holder, rolled the rotating blade around the edges, and then shook out the detached circle of tin which was the top of the can.
Hester remained sullenly aloof, but Mrs. Gentrie and Rebecca crowded close to look over his shoulder as Tragg tilted the circle of tin so that the light would enable him to examine the surface closely.
“Well,” he said, “we’ve got something here. Looks like another code message.”
“You don’t say!” Rebecca said, her voice quivering with excitement. “Now, don’t tell me there’s going to be another murder, Lieutenant.”
Tragg turned to Mrs. Gentrie. “Can you read these letters off for me while I copy them into my notebook?”
Mrs. Gentrie squinted at the top of the can. “I haven’t my reading glasses and this print is pretty fine...”
“I can,” Rebecca volunteered.
“Her eyes are sharp as needles,” Mrs. Gentrie said.
Tragg said, “Hold it by the edges so you don’t get your fingerprints on it. After I’ve seen what the words are, I’m going to try dusting it for fingerprints.”
Slowly Rebecca spelled off the code words while Tragg made a note of them in his notebook. Then Tragg stood behind Rebecca so that he could look over her shoulder and compare what he had written with the message which appeared on the tin.
“Right,” he said at length. “Now let’s just try dusting it. I don’t think we’ll find any fingerprints, but we’ll go through the motions just the same.”
When he had found no fingerprints, Tragg said, “Well, that’s that.”
Rebecca sniffed. “If you ask me,” she said pointedly to Mrs. Gentrie, “it’s a lovers’ post office, and that stenographer is getting Junior to pull some more chestnuts out of the fire.”
“Where is Junior?” Tragg asked Mrs. Gentrie.
“At the hardware store with his father.”
“I think it might be a good idea to call him on the telephone and ask if he can come home at once,” Tragg said.
Mrs. Gentrie obediently moved toward the stairs, but halfway up she paused to inquire, “Am I to tell him why you want him?”
“No. Just that I’m here and want him to come at once.”
Mrs. Gentrie said, “As far as that tin is concerned, Junior wouldn’t...”
“I understand,” Tragg interrupted, “but wouldn’t it be better to let Junior speak for himself?”
Mrs. Gentrie resumed her climbing up the stairs, closed the kitchen door behind her. Tragg turned to Rebecca, said, “We’ll try...”
“Look,” Rebecca exclaimed, her eyes bright with excitement, “I’ve just thought of a way to find out if it’s Junior.”
“Yes?” Tragg’s tone was only politely courteous.
Rebecca said, “We can seal this tin again and put it back on the shelf.” She was plainly trying to make an impression on Tragg, smiling coquettishly.
Tragg’s eyes narrowed. “You might have something there,” he said. “Provided, of course, we could get that top back into the can without it appearing the tin had been opened.”
Rebecca countered that objection with the rapid-fire retort of an enthusiast upholding a pet idea. “We could copy the message on to the top of another can and seal that one up and put it up there on the shelf. After all, the person who’s going to get that message couldn’t tell one tin from the other.”
Tragg regarded Rebecca with a certain respect appearing in his eyes. “That might be an excellent thing to do,” he admitted.
Rebecca, conscious of the impression she had made, modestly lowered her eyes. Her skirt swung slightly as she moved her bony hips from side to side. “Somehow, you really inspire a person to get ideas, Lieutenant.”
Tragg hesitated for only a moment, then he was running up the cellar stairs two at a time, calling Mrs. Gentrie away from the telephone.
“Now look,” he said when he had the three women gathered around him in the basement, “I’m going to take this tin for evidence. But I’m going to copy this message in another new tin, seal it, and place it on the shelf. I don’t want anyone to know anything about what I’ve done. That means anyone. None of you women are to communicate to a soul what has happened. Do you understand, Hester?”
She looked at Mrs. Gentrie. “If Mrs. Gentrie says so...”
“I do, Hester,” Mrs. Gentrie said. “You mustn’t tell a soul.”
“And you?” Tragg asked Rebecca.
The spinster clamped her lips together tightly and nodded with vehemence.
Tragg shifted his glance to Mrs. Gentrie. She said, “I can’t understand the fact that my cellar is being used for...”
“But you do appreciate the necessity of keeping this matter absolutely to ourselves?” Tragg asked.
Slowly, Mrs. Gentrie nodded.
“That means that you mustn’t tell even your husband about it,” Tragg said.
“I don’t keep secrets from Arthur. I...”
“But this is a secret you must keep. Everyone must maintain absolute and complete silence about this. Do you understand?”
“Well, if you say so.”
“I do say so, and that means particularly that Junior isn’t to know anything about it.”
Mrs. Gentrie glanced resentfully at Rebecca. “I suppose I have you to thank...”
“Do I have your promise?” Tragg interrupted.
“Yes,” Mrs. Gentrie said. “I guess so — yes, if you say so. But you’ll see Junior isn’t the one who will walk into your trap.”
Tragg said, “Now let’s go some place where we can get a can. I’ll etch these letters in the top of the can with the point of my jackknife.”
Rebecca beamed at Tragg with the smile an unattached woman in the forties bestows upon an attractive male. “I’ll get the can for you and show you how to seal it.”
“Thanks,” Tragg said. “First, however, I want to use the telephone. Is it where I can have absolute privacy?”
“Well,” Mrs. Gentrie said apologetically, “it isn’t in a phone booth, if that’s what you mean. It’s in the living room, but...”
“I guess that will do,” Tragg said.
“We won’t listen,” Rebecca assured him.
“And to make certain we don’t,” Mrs. Gentrie said with the ghost of a smile twitching the corners of her lips, “we’ll all go out in the kitchen.”
Rebecca said indignantly, “Well, I don’t see any reason for us being herded around like...”
“We’ll all go out in the kitchen,” Mrs. Gentrie interrupted firmly.
Rebecca, her lips compressed into a thin line of indignation, marched up the cellar stairs and followed Mrs. Gentrie into the kitchen while Hester tagged along behind her. Tragg turned toward the living room. Carefully closing the doors behind him, he surreptitiously twisted the key. To his discomfiture, the lock clicked noisily. But there was nothing to do about it now. Tragg picked up the telephone, took out his notebook, called for Detective Texman, and when he had him on the line, said in a low voice, “This is Tragg, Tex. Get that dictionary and look up these words. Got a pencil?... Okay. The seventh word in the first column on page 569. The sixth word in the first column on page 615. The second word in the second column on page 455. Seventh word in the first column, page 377. Twelfth word in the first column, page 748. Seventeenth word in the second column, 472. Eleventh word in the second column, page 1131. Sixth word, second column, page 364. Twenty-second word, second column, page 1094. Fourth word, first column, page 832, and the twenty-sixth word in the second column on page 600. When you have that list of words, call me back at the residence of Arthur Gentrie. I’ll be sticking around here, stalling along until I get your call. It shouldn’t take long. Read me those words in that order. And keep absolutely mum about this message. I don’t want a word of it to get out to the newspapers — not even to anyone else on the force. Keep this as the most closely guarded secret in the office. Got it? All right, good-by.”