“Why, naturally, Mr. Mason, I want the personal belongings, the mementos of poor dear Helen. I understand that you made a bid largely for the purpose of accommodating your friend, the public administrator, and purchased articles that have no real intrinsic value. The bid, I believe, was five dollars.”
Mr. Fallon jumped to his feet, extracted a crisp five dollar note from his pocket, and held it tentatively toward Mason. When the lawyer made no move to accept it, he turned somewhat dubiously to Della Street and said, “I suppose you’re the one who has charge of financial transactions, Miss Street.”
Della Street looked up at Mason questioningly.
The lawyer imperceptibly shook his head.
Fallon stood holding the five dollar bill, looking from one to the other, his face showing his perplexity at being rebuffed.
“But I don’t understand,” he said. “Am I perhaps failing to make myself clear?”
Mason said, “I bought the package. It contains some diaries, a photograph album and some other personal belongings. I think I have my five dollars’ worth.”
“Diaries, Mr. Mason?”
“Exactly,” Mason said, his eyes holding those of his visitor. “They are rather complete diaries.”
“But my dear Mr. Mason, they certainly can’t be of any interest to you, and, if you’ll, pardon the expression, I know you don’t want to pry into the secrets of a dead girl.”
“Why not?” Mason asked.
“Why not?” Fallon exclaimed, shocked. “Why, good heavens, Mr. Mason, why... surely you must be joking!”
“Certainly I’m not joking,” Mason said. “I make my living by knowing something about law and something about human nature. I stand up in front of juries. I cross-examine witnesses. I have to know a lot more about human nature than the average man.”
“Yes, yes, yes. I understand, Mr. Mason. That part, of course, is quite clear.”
“You don’t get to understand human nature,” Mason said, “by listening to what people tell you when they’re talking to you.”
“You don’t?” Fallon asked, surprised.
Mason shook his head. “That’s when you see them with their make-up on, with their best foot forward. You learn about human nature by watching people when they don’t know they’re being watched, by listening to conversations that they don’t know are being overheard, by prying into their thoughts whenever you can find what their true thoughts are. You learn about people when you see their souls stripped naked by suffering.”
“Really, Mr. Mason, you amaze me.”
“For instance, in your case,” Mason said, “one doesn’t find out all about you, about your motivations, about your ideas and about what you really want by listening to what you say.”
“I... Mr. Mason, are you accusing me of hypocrisy?”
“I’ll ask you,” Mason said. “Are you telling me the entire truth?”
“Why, certainly! Yes, of course, of course!”
“And you want these diaries only for sentimental reasons?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Then,” Mason said, “I’ll tell you I want them for a business reason. They help me to understand human nature. So that will terminate the interview, Mr. Fallon, and there’re no hard feelings on either side.”
“But I don’t understand, Mr. Mason.”
“I’ve tried to tell you.”
“Do you perchance mean that these things have a substantial monetary value to you?”
“That’s right.”
“Oh,” Fallon said, beaming, “in that case, Mr. Mason, I am fully prepared to meet you on your own ground. I had assumed, as one gentleman to another, the five dollar reimbursement would be all that was required, but it it’s a matter of financial bargaining...”
“It isn’t,” Mason said. “I simply happen to desire to retain the property which I purchased.”
“Oh, but on a purely financial basis, on a concrete basis, Mr. Mason, I am prepared to approach the subject from an entirely different viewpoint.”
“Go ahead and approach it then.”
“Well, Mr. Mason, on a basis of money, on a basis of a transaction which means something to you from a monetary standpoint — let me put it this way, you paid five dollars for this property and you expect to receive at least five dollars’ worth of benefit from it. Is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“I may say more than five dollars.”
“That’s right, a great deal more.”
The ingratiating smile abruptly left Fallon’s face. He plunged his stubby hand into his inside coat pocket, pulled out a pigskin wallet, opened it, counted out five one-hundred dollar bills and tossed them on Mason’s desk.
“All right, Mason,” he said, “let’s understand each other. There’s a profit.”
Mason shook his head.
Fallon raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“I’m sorry,” Mason said. “That isn’t the sort of compensation I’m looking for.”
Fallon’s stubby fingers moved once more into the pigskin billfold. He tossed out five more one-hundred dollar bills.
“All right, Mason,” he said coldly, “there’s a thousand. Now let’s end this damned farce.”
There was no hint of geniality in the man’s face now. He was like a poker player pushing chips into the center of the table, watching his antagonist across the table, trying to determine what he was going to do, what cards he held in his hand.
“The diaries are not for sale,” Mason said.
“But, Mr. Mason, this is an absurd situation.”
“It doesn’t seem absurd to me,” Mason said. “I bought something because I wanted it. I continue to want it.”
“Mr. Mason,” Fallon said, “let’s understand each other. Let’s be definite. I am not prepared to go higher than one thousand dollars. That is, my instructions were to stop there. I feel, however, that— Mr. Mason, would you care to talk with Benjamin Addicks?”
“What about?”
“About the documents that you have.”
Mason shook his head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I think there is, Mr. Mason. I think that if you would see Mr. Addicks personally you’d realize... well, after all, Mr. Mason, let’s quit sparring around and get down to cold, hard business.”
“It’s your party,” Mason told him. “Go ahead and serve the refreshments. I thought you wanted to get the package merely for sentimental reasons and because you were a relative of Helen Cadmus.”
“Did you really think that?”
“That’s what you told me.”
“Good heavens, Mr. Mason, I had to tell you something! You’re a lawyer. Surely you recognize an approach that would enable us both to save face?”
“I’m not certain my face is worth saving,” Mason said.
“No, no, please don’t joke, Mr. Mason! Let’s be frank with each other.”
“I’ve been frank with you.”
“All right, I’ll be frank with you. The disappearance of Helen Cadmus caused a lot of conjecture. Newspaper writers, who make their living from catering to the demands of an audience which is hungry for sensational slop, fairly eat that stuff up. It was necessary for Mr. Addicks to go into seclusion, to take elaborate precautions from being hounded to death by these sensation-mongers.
“Now then, it appears that Helen kept a diary. I don’t know how it happened that the investigative officers didn’t find out about that.”
“The report is,” Mason said, “that Addicks used every bit of political influence at his command to see that the investigation consisted of nothing more than a big coat of whitewash hastily applied with a big brush. There was no investigation worthy of the name.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can’t say that, Mr. Mason. You can’t really believe that. Mr. Addicks tried to save himself personal inconvenience but that’s all.”