Mason ran up the uncarpeted stairs, located the room he wanted on the sixth floor and gently tried the knob of the door. The door was unlocked. He swung it open noiselessly.
Della Street, attired in a house coat and slippers, held a warning finger to her lips and motioned toward the room behind her, then pointed to the twin bed near the window.
Sally Madison lay on her back, one arm flung out from under the covers, her fingers limp and relaxed. The girl’s glossy dark hair streamed out over the pillow. The absence of shoulder straps and the curving contours which were visible indicated that she was sleeping nude. Her alligator-skin purse, which had evidently been placed under the pillow, had fallen to the floor, and, in the fall had opened and partially spilled its contents on the rug.
Della Street’s insistent finger pointed to the purse.
Mason bent over to get a look at the articles which were illuminated by a bedside lamp which had apparently been lowered from its normal position on a small table between the two beds to a point on the floor, where the light would not shine in Sally Madison’s eyes.
He saw a roll of bills fastened together with an elastic band. The denomination of the outer bill was visible and showed that it was for fifty dollars. Back of the roll of bills there was the dull gleam of blued steel, where the barrel of a revolver caught and reflected the rays of the electric light.
Della Street glanced inquiringly at Mason. When she saw that the lawyer had fully appreciated the significance of the contents of the purse, she raised her eyebrows in silent inquiry.
Mason looked around the room, searching for some place where he could talk.
Della Street beckoned him around the foot of the bed and opened the door of the bathroom. She switched on the light, and, when Mason had entered, closed the door behind him.
The lawyer seated himself on the edge of the bathtub, and Della Street started talking in a whisper. “She clung to that purse like grim death. I wanted to get her some night things but she said she’d sleep in the raw. She got out of her clothes in nothing flat, was careful to put the purse under her pillow and then lay there watching me while I undressed. I switched out the lights and got into bed. Apparently she couldn’t sleep at first. I heard her twisting and turning.”
“Any sobs?” Mason asked.
Della shook her head.
“When did she get to sleep?”
“I don’t know. I went to sleep first, although I had intended to stay awake and make sure she was asleep and all right before I closed my eyes.”
“When did you see the purse?”
“About five minutes before I telephoned you. Before she went to sleep she must have squirmed around so that the purse had worked over to a position near the edge of the bed — then when she turned in her sleep the purse fell out, lit on one edge of the steel frame and the weight of the gun caused the clasps to come open. I heard the jar when the purse hit the floor, and I was nervous enough so that I wakened suddenly and almost jumped out of my skin.”
“Did you know what had wakened you?”
“Not right away, but I turned on the light. Sally was lying there sound asleep, just about as you see her now, but she was twitching restlessly and her lips were moving. The words she was uttering were all mumbled together so you couldn’t distinguish anything. I could only hear some confused sounds.
“As soon as I turned on the light, I realized what had happened, and, without thinking, reached down to pick up the purse. First, I saw the roll of bills and started to put them back in the purse. Then the tips of my fingers touched something cold and metallic. I immediately lowered the light to the floor so I could see what it was all about. At that time the purse was lying just as you see it now, and I left the light right there on the floor by the purse.
“Chief, I was just sick. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t dare to leave her alone and go down to the lobby. Finally I took a chance on telephoning you because I knew that was all there was for me to do.”
“Just what did you do?” Mason asked. “I mean how did you place the call?”
She said, “It was almost thirty seconds before I could get anyone to answer at the hotel switchboard, then I kept my voice just as low as possible and asked for an outside line. But the man downstairs told me all numbers had to go out through the hotel switchboard. And I saw then there was no dial on the telephone. I’d been so rattled I hadn’t noticed that before. So I gave him your unlisted number. It was the only thing I could have done under the circumstances.”
Mason nodded gravely.
“It seemed like an age before you answered,” she went on. “And then I started talking to you, keeping my eye on Sally Madison all the while, so I could hang up in case she started to wake up.”
“Is that why you were cut off in the middle of a sentence?” Mason asked.
“Yes. I saw her move restlessly and her eyelids fluttered. So I didn’t dare to keep on talking. I slipped the receiver back into place and put my head back on the pillow so in case she opened her eyes I could pretend to be asleep — although, of course, the purse on the floor and the light by the purse would have been a give-away. If she wakened, I was going to call for a showdown, but if I could postpone it until you got here I thought it would be better to play it that way. Well, she rolled her head around a bit and said something in that mumbled voice of a person talking in her sleep, and then she heaved a long sigh and seemed to relax.”
Mason rose from his seat on the edge of the bathtub, pushed his hands deep into his coat pockets, said, “We’re in a jam, Della.”
Della Street nodded.
“She’s supposed to be broke,” Mason said. “If she has a roll of bills like that she must have got them from Mrs. Faulkner. - I guess I played right into her hands. I wanted to be alone there in Faulkner’s bathroom so I could take a good look at all the evidence. I didn’t want her checking up on what I was doing, so I told her to take Mrs. Faulkner out into the living room and kid her out of her hysterics. I guess while she was out there, she must have put the bite on Mrs. Faulkner. That means she must have uncovered some evidence that escaped me. Or else, Mrs. Faulkner propositioned her to ditch the gun, and the golddigger ran true to form and wanted some heavy dough. In any event it leaves us in a mess.
“You can see what’s going to happen now. I thought we were getting her out of circulation so the newspaper reporters wouldn’t get hold of her, and so we could do something about building up a claim against the estate of Faulkner without having her spill any beans before we knew the lay of the land. That’s what comes of being big-hearted and trying to help a guy who has T.B. and a golddigging girl friend.
“You’ve registered under your own name and under her name. If that gun happens to be the one with which the murder was committed, you can realize what a spot we’re in. Both of us. What did she tell you when she called you on the phone?”
“She said you had told her to get in touch with me and had given her my number; that I was to take her to a hotel, stay with her and fix it so that no one would know anything about where she was until you got ready to let them find out.”
Mason nodded. “That’s exactly what I told her to do.”
Della Street said, “I was asleep and the telephone kept ringing. It wakened me out of a sound slumber and I guess I was a little groggy. Sally Madison gave me your message, and one of the first thoughts that flashed through my mind was where I could find a hotel. I told her to call me back in about ten minutes, and then I got busy on the telephone and called half a dozen hotels. I finally found there was a room with twin beds here at the Kellinger.”