After a second or two, he went on. “How did you know they were hundred-dollar bills, Gertie? You couldn’t see the denomination at that distance.”
“Well, they... they looked like hundred-dollar bills, all flat and—”
“But they could have been fifty-dollar bills?” Mason asked as Gertie hesitated. “Or perhaps twenty-dollar bills?”
“Well, I distinctly had the impression they were hundred-dollar bills, Mr. Mason.”
“And, by the same sign,” Mason said, “looking at those bills in the mirror across the length of the office, they could have been one-dollar bills?”
“Oh, I’m certain they weren’t one-dollar bills.”
“What makes you so certain?”
“Just the way they looked.”
“Thanks a lot, Gertie,” Mason said. “I’m glad you tipped us off on this. You did quite right.”
Gertie’s face lit up. “Oh, I thought I had botched it up, the way you were asking those questions.”
“I’m just trying to get it straight,” Mason said. “Forget all about it, Gertie.”
“Forget about something like that!” Gertie exclaimed. “Mr. Mason, that woman is... well, she’s going to lead you into something. She just isn’t any ordinary client.”
“That’s quite right,” Mason said. “She isn’t an ordinary client, which is perhaps why the case intrigues me.”
The lawyer patted Gertie on the shoulder. “You’re a good girl, Gertie,” he said. “You just keep an eye on these clients that come in, and if you see anything unusual always let me know.”
Mason nodded to Della Street and they went through the door into the library.
“What do you think, Chief?” Della asked.
“I think Gertie saw the contents of that bag, all right, and I think it was packed full of currency. But whether it was filled with hundred-dollar bills or whether it was filled with one-dollar bills is anybody’s guess. I don’t think Gertie could have seen the hundred-dollar denomination at that distance while looking in the mirror.”
“Gertie has a wonderful imagination,” Della said.
Mason nodded thoughtfully. “But,” he said, “the important thing is how long that mirror was held at a forty-five degree angle; whether our mysterious client wanted Gertie to see what was in the black bag and report it to us, or whether she was taking something out and Gertie’s quick eye managed to get a glimpse of the contents... You have to hand it to Gertie for that; she can see more in a tenth of a second than most people can see after staring for five minutes.”
Della laughed. “And then her mind has a computer system all of its own by which she multiplies what she has seen by two.”
“Squares it,” Mason said, laughing. “Well, let’s go back and see our client.”
Mason and Della returned to the lawyer’s private office.
“I’m sorry we kept you waiting,” Mason said. “Now, let’s see, where were we? You wanted to have a lawyer who would represent you in case you needed an attorney?”
“That’s right.”
“But you didn’t want anyone to know your identity.”
“I have my reasons, Mr. Mason.”
“I presume you have,” Mason agreed, “but that makes it rather unsatisfactory as far as I’m concerned. Suppose you want to communicate with me so I can do something for you. How am I to know that I’m talking with the same person who retained me?”
“We’ll agree on a code,” she said.
“All right,” Mason said, “what do you suggest?”
“My measurements.”
“Yes?” Mason asked.
“Thirty-six, twenty-four, thirty-six,” she said.
A smile flitted across the lawyer’s face, then he was serious once more. “That’s not much of a code,” he said.
“But if I gave you the measurements in my own voice over the telephone — you’d recognize my voice, wouldn’t you?”
“I’m not certain,” Mason said. “I might. Sometimes voices are rather hard to place over the telephone. What would you want me to do? That is, what do you think you’d like to have me do if I should decide to represent you and you should call me over the phone?”
“Defend me,” she said.
“For what?”
“Heavens, I don’t know,” she said, “but the people who are trying to find me are very, very ingenious. They wouldn’t go to the expense of hiring private detectives when they could accuse me of having committed some crime and put the police on my trail. That’s what I’m afraid of.
“You see, Mr. Mason,” she went on hurriedly, “I’m not at liberty to tell you all of the facts, but there are certain people — that is, a certain person who wants to find me or who might want to find me. That person is devilishly ingenious. He would stop at nothing.”
“It’s not easy to find a person who deliberately disappears,” Mason said.
“I know,” she said, “and this other party knows that, too. He isn’t going to waste his time and money hiring private detectives at fifty dollars a day. He’ll accuse me of some crime and get the police to find me.”
“And then?” Mason asked.
“Then,” she said, “I’d have to defend myself.”
“You mean he’d actually try to press these trumped-up charges?”
“He might. He might try anything.”
“He would be putting himself in a very vulnerable position,” Mason said. “That is, unless you have committed some crime.”
“But I haven’t.”
“What do you think he would accuse you of?”
“Heavens, I don’t know. Murder perhaps. He’s absolutely ruthless.”
Mason eyed her steadily. “Or perhaps embezzlement?” he asked.
A sudden flush of color flooded her face.
“Well?” Mason asked.
“He might even do that,” she said, “but I hadn’t thought of that.”
“That would seem to be a logical thing to do,” Mason commented, making his voice elaborately casual. “If he accused you of murder he would have to have a corpse. Whereas, if he accused you of embezzlement he would only have to swear that a large sum of money was missing.”
“Yes,” she said, and then added slowly, “I see your point.”
“And just what did you have in mind?” Mason asked.
“I wanted to give you a retainer and have it so that you’d be willing to act as my attorney, to come to my rescue in case I should telephone... No matter what it was I wanted.”
“How much of a retainer did you have in mind?” Mason asked.
“Would three hundred dollars do?”
“I would say that that would be a reasonable retainer,” Mason said. “Of course, after you consulted me and in case the situation became complicated, I’d have to ask for more money.”
She opened her hand purse, held it carefully so that Mason could not see the contents, and took out six fifty-dollar bills.
“Do I give them to you or give them to your bookkeeper?” she asked.
“My secretary will make a receipt,” Mason said. “...Those fifty-dollar bills look uniformly crisp.”
Her laugh was nervous. “Well, I prepared myself. I don’t ordinarily carry large sums of money like this. I got these for you — at my bank.”
“Here in the city?” Mason asked quite casually with a quick glance at Della Street.
“No, no, not here in the city. Heavens, no.”
“I see,” Mason said, picking up the fifty-dollar bills and fingering them casually.
“Just what did you expect me to do for you?” he asked.
“Probably nothing. Don’t misunderstand me, Mr. Mason. You are just an anchor out to windward. If all goes well you’ll never hear from me again. I’ll walk out of this office and out of your life.”
“And if all doesn’t go well?” Mason asked.