“Well, apparently no one’s going to answer the bell. She must have gone somewhere.”
Mason tried the door.
“It’s unlocked,” he said.
“Chief, don’t.”
“You wait in the car,” Mason told her. “If I’m not back here in five minutes, drive to the nearest telephone and notify the police.”
“No, no. I’m going with you. I...”
“You wait in the car,” Mason told her. “You have five minutes...”
“Chief, I’m going in there with you.”
“You can’t help any. You can’t do a thing.”
“Perhaps not, but it would be a lot better than sitting out here in the car wait...”
“No,” Mason interrupted. “You’re going to wait in the car. At the end of five minutes call the police. If I’m not out in five minutes don’t wait for me, don’t hesitate. Just drive that car to the nearest telephone and get the police.”
“If you’re not back in five minutes it wouldn’t do any good to call the Army,” she said. “You know it and I know it.”
“You wait in the car,” Mason told her.
“You’re just trying to keep me out of danger,” she protested.
“That’s an order,” Mason told her, and, opening the door, he went inside, slamming it shut behind him. There was a bolt on the inside of the door and he slid it into place, just in case Della Street should decide to ignore his instructions and try to follow him.
Here the peculiar, fetid smell of animal occupancy was accentuated. It was as though he had stepped into a zoo.
He walked down a short corridor toward an open door and entered an office equipped with desks, filing cabinets and typewriters. There were a dozen or so graphs on the wall.
Mason crossed this office, opened a door and found himself in a long, concrete corridor, on one side of which was a long row of cages.
In these cages were gorillas, chimpanzees, monkeys, all apparently in a state of great excitement.
Every light in the place seemed to be on and the whole corridor was flooded with brilliance.
Far down at the end of the corridor he saw that two of the big iron gates were swung open.
Hesitating for a long instant, he then walked down the corridor, keeping his steps as uniform as possible, his eyes straight ahead, trying above all else not to show any fear.
Monkeys chattered at him in shrill excitement. A gorilla clapped his hands as the lawyer walked by. The explosive sound was like that of a machine gun ripping into action.
With effort, Mason continued to walk steadily, controlling every outward manifestation of his nerves.
He was directly abreast of a big cage with heavy iron bars across the door, when, with a demoniacal cry, a huge gorilla that had been at the far corner of the cage sprang toward him, hurling against the bars of the cage with an impact which made even the floor shake. A moment later a long, hairy arm came snaking through the bars, trying to grab the lawyer.
He jumped back. The stubby fingers of the huge gorilla scraped down his coat, tried for a hold and failed.
He flattened against the wall. The huge animal glared at him ferociously, and then, suddenly dropping from the bars of the cage, bared his fangs and began to bear a tattoo on his chest.
Pressing against the wall, Mason edged his way on past.
The big gorilla made another grab. This time his hand was inches short of reaching Mason’s garment.
Then apparently the gorilla started laughing. Mason stared in fascination at the black body, the black face, the sardonic eyes, and the huge red mouth that opened up, baring fangs in a great engulfing grin.
Mason said, “Old boy, I don’t know whether you’re playing games with me and tried to frighten me, or whether you wanted to grab me and tear me into my component parts, but I’m just not taking any chances.”
The gorilla continued to beat his chest.
Beyond this cage was a cage containing an animal which Mason took to be a chimpanzee, then a cage of monkeys, and then the two empty cages with swinging doors that were wide open.
He had the uneasy feeling that it had been only a few moments earlier that the huge animals had made their escape, and in all probability had entered the main house through the door which Mason could see swinging ajar at the end of the corridor.
He looked at his watch. It had been but a little over a minute since he had left Della Street at the door.
Mason pushed back the door. As he had surmised, this door led directly into the main house, with its rich deep carpets on the floor, a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, a flight of winding stairs leading up to a second floor.
Mason hesitated, debated whether to turn back.
“Hello!” he called.
Even to his own ears his voice seemed to lack assurance.
Suddenly from the second floor came a terrific pounding, a series of blows struck with indescribable rapidity, a pounding that seemed to shake the entire house.
Mason called out, “Mrs. Kempton, are you all right?”
The pounding ceased.
“Mrs. Kempton!” he called. “Oh, Mrs. Kempton!”
Again the pounding was renewed, this time seeming to be closer, nearer to the head of the stairs.
He ran up the stairs two at a time.
The stairs led to an upper corridor. Looking down this corridor, Mason learned the cause of the noise. A big gorilla was hanging onto the top edge of an open door, his long left arm extended. His two feet and the other hand were beating violent tattoo on the floor of the hallway.
As he saw Mason, the gorilla released his hold on the door, ceased pounding and came running toward the lawyer with a peculiar shambling gait.
Mason stood stock-still.
The gorilla continued to advance.
Mason looked apprehensively back over his shoulder, realized that before he could get halfway down the staircase the gorilla would overtake him.
Mason stretched forth his arm, holding up his hand with the palm outward.
The gorilla came to a stop, stood upright, beat his chest rapidly with both hands until the whole hallway reverberated with hollow, drumlike sounds.
Mason took a slow step backwards, groping behind him with his hand for the edge of the iron balustrade.
The gorilla abruptly ceased to beat his chest, watched Mason as a cat might watch a mouse.
The lawyer’s groping hand encountered not the iron balustrade but the knob of a door. He twisted the knob. The door, which was unlocked, opened inward. He slipped through the door, abruptly closed it, and, searching frantically for a lock, found a heavy bolt which he shot into place.
There was complete, utter silence from the hallway.
Mason found that he was in a big room equipped as a combined bedroom and office. Behind a screen he could see the foot of a bed and on the bed he was able to glimpse a man’s foot.
There was a big desk, a couple of filing cases, a round cannon ball safe, shelves containing books, paintings on the walls, some framed photographs, and a half a dozen large chairs.
Mason started around the big desk, and as he did so stopped short as he saw the body of a woman crumpled on the floor, lying slightly on one side, her head bent backwards, her left hand clenched, her right hand on the carpet with the fingers extended.
Light shining down on the woman’s face left no. doubt of her identity. It was Mrs. Kempton.
Mason ran around the screen to the bed.
A man lay face down on the bed, sprawled out.
The handle of a big carving knife protruded from his back. The knife had been driven in to the hilt, and blood had spread out over the bedspread, blood had spurted up onto the wall, and, as Mason looked closer, he saw another jagged wound on the side of the man’s neck.
There was no need to take the man’s pulse. He was obviously dead.