Jackson Sterne stood watching him, blinking slowly.
Mrs. Greeley watched Mason’s back with eyes in which there were quick tears. “He is going to clear Adler of getting out of that car and leaving Miss Claire to take the blame,” she said in a voice which carried conviction.
Hanley said with feeling, “There never was a more clever outlaw. Essentially, the man is nonsocial, nonconventional, a nonconformist. He may respect justice, but he certainly has no regard for the letter of the law!”
“But,” Tragg pointed out, “he has done more to solve murders than any man on the force; but... well, damn him!”
Chapter 20
Mason sat in his room in the Gateview Hotel. From time to time he looked at his watch. The pile of cigarette stubs in the ash tray mounted higher. Toward noon, Mason called his office. “Anything new, Della?”
“Everything quiet and serene at this end.”
Mason sighed. “I am afraid Tragg’s interference has wrecked my little scheme. If you don’t hear from me in half an hour, call Tragg and ask him to come up here, will you?”
“Okay. Anything else?”
“That is all. Be seeing you, Della.”
Mason clicked the receiver into place, took another cigarette from his hammered silver case, and heard a knock at the door. “Come in,” he called. The door opened. Mrs. Greeley entered. Mason jumped to his feet. “Why, Mrs. Greeley, I had no idea you were coming!”
“I hope I haven’t disturbed you, Mr. Mason, but I have found something...”
Mason glanced at his wrist watch. “Can’t it wait, Mrs. Greeley? I am expecting someone else.”
“It will only take a minute.”
Mason hesitated, then quickly closed the door, and placed a chair for her. “I don’t want to seem inhospitable,” he said, “but I am expecting someone who may come at any minute.”
“Mrs. Warfield?” she asked.
“What makes you think of her?”
“Because I have found that correspondence you were asking about.”
“Where is it?”
“Here.” She indicated a brief case. “Do you want to look at it now?”
Mason once more consulted his watch, hesitated, said, “Could you leave it with me?”
“Yes.”
“I am sorry,” he apologized, “but seconds are precious. I am trying to...”
“I understand,” she interrupted. “I shall just put these over on the bed. I am frightfully nervous, Mr. Mason. I am wondering if my own life isn’t in danger.”
“Frankly,” Mason said, “I think it is.”
“Mr. Mason, did you know what was in these letters?”
“I had an idea.”
“Do you know who the man was my husband was protecting?”
“I think I do.”
“Can you tell me?”
“I would prefer not to — not right now.”
She said, “There is something in that first letter, the one on top, I would like to have you read now.”
Mason reached for the letter. “This one?” he asked.
“Yes. That...”
Mason whirled. His hand clamped on her wrist.
An involuntary half scream left her lips. Something heavy dropped from her right hand, struck the edge of the bed, thudded to the floor. The fingers of her left hand continued to clutch at the pillow. Her right hand sought his arm, gripped it until her fingers dug into his muscles.
Mason said, “You are perfectly safe here, Mrs. Greeley, but you are not going to be safe if you carry that gun and draw it at the slightest noise.”
“There is someone at the door! Someone turned the knob!”
Mason strode quickly to the door, and jerked it open.
There was no one in the corridor.
“I heard someone,” she said. “Someone was turning the knob, very slowly and stealthily. The door was sliding open.”
Mason frowned. “I am afraid you have ruined everything.”
“I am sorry.”
“It is as much my fault as yours. And as for carrying that gun — you are foolish. Your life is in danger but it is nothing you can ward off with a gun. The persons who are after you are far too clever to be disposed of that way.
“Now, look here, you are nervous, unstrung, and hysterical. Go to your family physician and ask him to give you a narcotic which will make you sleep for at least twenty-four hours. How long since you have slept?”
The corners of her mouth twitched. “Not more than an hour or two since...” Her face was distorted by a spasm. “I can’t get it out of my mind! I can’t. I can’t! I am going to be next. I know it. I have been followed. I have been...”
Mason said, “Mrs. Greeley, I want you to go see a doctor right now. I can’t give you any more time now. Promise me you will go to your doctor at once. Will you do that?”
His hand patted her shoulder.
Her eyes blinked up at him through tears. “Mr. Mason, you are absolutely wonderful. I shall go at once.”
She took a deep breath, and tried to smile. “I am sorry I lost control,” she said. “Good-bye, Mr. Mason.”
“Good-bye.”
Mason closed and locked the door. Some thirty minutes later, in response to another knock, he tiptoed to stand on one side of the door so that a bullet sent crashing through the panels would miss him.
“Who is it?” he asked.
“Tragg.”
“I don’t recognize your voice.”
“What is the idea?” Tragg asked. “Can’t you...”
Mason unlocked the door. “I just wanted to be sure.”
“Why all the caution?”
“I am expecting the murderer to call on me.”
“So I gathered. What is the idea?”
Mason dropped into a chair, lit a cigarette. “Mrs. Warfield came to this hotel. She didn’t stay in her room that night.”
“Certainly not. She went to Greeley’s room. I found her baggage there.”
“Where did she go after that?” Mason asked.
“She stayed right there.”
“After shooting Greeley?”
“Yes. Why not?”
“She couldn’t be certain someone hadn’t heard the shot.”
“No, of course not,” Tragg admitted, “but it didn’t sound like a shot. Two or three people heard the noise, but thought it was a car exhaust.”
“She, of course, had no way of knowing that.”
“What are you getting at?”
“She didn’t leave the hotel until the next morning.”
“She stayed there in the room, with Greeley’s body?”
“Why not?”
“The bed wasn’t slept in. She would hardly be down with a corpse and go to sleep.”
“And she would hardly sit up all night in the room with a dead man. Granted that she has a pretty strong stomach, it is still asking too much.”
“What did she do?” Tragg asked.
“Spent the night in another room.”
“Whose?”
Mason shrugged. “There are a lot of things about this case that can’t be proved — yet. But, Tragg, we know what the answer is, and if there is anything wrong with my reasoning, point it out.”
“All right, go ahead.”
“When I realized what must have happened here at the hotel, I had Drake look up the registrations. Two single rooms were rented within fifteen minutes of the time Mrs. Warfield registered. One was to a man who answered the description of the driver of the car. So I didn’t bother with the other. I realize now I should have.”
“Who was the other?”
“A woman. Don’t you get it?”
“No. I don’t.”
“Mrs. Warfield must have spent the night with that woman.”
“But her baggage was in Greeley’s room...”
“Certainly,” Mason said. “Mrs. Warfield registered and went to her room, then she went back to the lobby to try and pick up some back numbers of Photoplay Magazine. I had shown her a photograph of Homan. I asked her if it wasn’t her husband or Spinney. She had been trying to locate Spinney — to find out who he really was. She thought this was Spinney’s picture. Through him, she thought she could reach her husband. When she found she couldn’t get the magazine she wanted, she returned to her room. Greeley was probably there waiting for her.”