"What did Judge Markham think?" she asked.
"I don't know," he told her, "and I don't give a damn. I know what my rights are and I stood on them. I'm fighting to protect a client."
Abruptly she came to him, put her hand on his shoulders.
"Chief," she said, "I doubted you once. I just want you to know that I'll never do it again. I'm for you, right or wrong."
He smiled, patted her on the shoulder.
"All right," he said, "take a taxi and go home. If anybody should want me, you don't know where to find me."
She nodded, walked to the door, and this time went out without hesitating.
Perry Mason waited until she had gone down in the elevator. Then he switched out the lights, put on his overcoat, sealed the letter, took the portable typewriter and went to his car. He drove to another part of the city, posted the letter in a mail box, and then took a winding road which led to a reservoir in the hills back of the city. He drove along the bank of the reservoir, slowed his car, took the portable typewriter and flung it into the reservoir. By the time the water splashed up in a miniature geyser, Perry Mason was stepping on the throttle of his automobile.
Chapter 19
Radiators were still hissing comfortably in the building when Perry Mason sat down with Paul Drake.
"Paul," he said, "I want a man who's willing to take a chance."
"I've got lots of them," Drake said. "What do you want?"
"I want this man to call up Thelma Benton, say that he's a reporter of The Chronicle; that the city editor has given an okay to pay ten thousand dollars for exclusive rights to publish her diary if it's as represented.
"I want him to make an appointment to meet Thelma Benton where he can inspect the diary. She may, or may not, have some one with her. I doubt if she'll surrender the diary for inspection. But she'll let him look at it.
"I want that man to turn to the date that's marked October 18th, and tear the leaf from the book."
"What's on that leaf that you want?" asked the detective.
"I don't know."
"She'll make a holler."
"Naturally."
"What can they do to the man who does that?"
"Not very much," Perry Mason said. "They may try to throw a scare into him, but that's about all they can do."
"Couldn't she sue for damages if the thing was made public?"
"I'm not going to make it public," he said. "I'm simply going to let her know that I have it."
"Look here," Drake said, "it's none of my business, and you certainly don't need me to tell you how to practice law, but you're skating on damned thin ice. I've told you that before, and I'm telling it to you again."
"I know I'm skating on thin ice," Perry Mason said morosely, "but there's nothing they can get me for. I claim that I'm within my rights on everything I've done. Newspapers do things twice as bad as that every day in the week and nobody says anything to them."
"You're not a newspaper," Drake pointed out.
"I know I'm not," said Mason. "But I'm a lawyer and I'm representing a client who is entitled to a fair trial. By God, I'm going to see that she gets it!"
"Does all this spectacular and dramatic stuff constitute your idea of a fair trial?"
"Yes. My idea of a fair trial is to bring out the facts. I'm going to bring out the facts."
"All of the facts, or just the facts that are favorable to your client?"
"Well," said Perry Mason, grinning, "I'm not going to try the case for the district attorney, if that's what you mean; that's up to him."
Paul Drake scraped back his chair.
"You'll defend us if we get into a jam over this?" he asked.
"Certainly," Perry Mason told him. "I wouldn't get you into anything that I wouldn't go into myself."
"The trouble with you," the detective told him, "is that you go into too darn much. Incidentally, you're getting the reputation of being a legal wizard."
"How do you mean — a wizard?" Mason asked.
"They figure that you can pull a verdict out of the hat, just like a magician pulls out a rabbit," Drake told him. "Your methods aren't orthodox; they're dramatic and effective."
"We're a dramatic people," Perry Mason said slowly. "We're not like the English. The English want dignity and order. We want the dramatic and the spectacular. It's a national craving. We're geared to a rapid rate of thought. We want to have things move in a spectacular manner."
"Well, that's the way you do it, all right," Drake said, getting to his feet. "That stunt this afternoon was certainly clever. You've got every newspaper in town featuring, not the case against Bessie Forbes, but the spectacular manner in which the testimony of the taxi driver was virtually discredited. Every newspaper in the city acts on the assumption that the entire testimony of the cab driver is valueless."
"Well, it is," said Perry Mason.
"And yet," Drake told him thoughtfully, "you know as well as I do that Bessie Forbes actually went out there in that taxicab. She was the woman who went to the house."
"That," said the lawyer, "is a matter of conjecture and speculation unless the district attorney introduces some evidence to prove it."
"Where's he going to get the evidence from, now that his cab driver has been discredited?"
"That," Perry Mason assured him, "is something for the district attorney to worry about."
"All right," Drake told him, "I'm on my way. Is there anything else you want?"
"I think," said Perry Mason slowly, "that will be all for a while."
"God knows, it's enough!" said Paul Drake slowly, and walked out of the office.
Perry Mason tilted back in his swivel chair and closed his eyes. He remained motionless, save for the tips of his fingers, which drummed gently upon the arms of his chair. He was sitting in that position when a key sounded in the lock of the outer door, and Frank Everly entered the office.
Frank Everly was the law clerk who looked up routine legal matters for Perry Mason, and sat with him in the trial of cases. He was young, eager, ambitious, and filled with a boundless enthusiasm.
"Can I talk with you, Chief?" he asked.
Perry Mason opened his eyes and frowned.
"Yes," he said, "come in. What is it you want?"
Frank Everly sat down on the edge of the chair and seemed ill at ease.
"Go on," said Perry Mason. "What is it?"
"I wanted to ask you," said Frank Everly, "as a personal favor, to put Bessie Forbes on the witness stand."
"What's the idea?" asked Mason curiously.
"I have been listening to a lot of talk," said Everly. "Not ordinary gossip, you understand, but the talk of lawyers, of judges and newspaper men."
Mason smiled patiently.
"All right, Everly, what did you hear?"
"If you don't put that woman on the witness stand, and she's convicted, it's going to mean that your reputation will be ruined," he said.
"All right," Perry Mason told him; "it'll be ruined then."
"But don't you see?" said Everly. "She's innocent. Everybody knows that she's innocent, now. The case against her is founded entirely on circumstantial evidence. All that it needs is a denial from her and an explanation, and the jury will render a verdict of not guilty as a matter of course."
"You really feel that way about it?" asked Perry Mason curiously.
"Of course I feel that way about it."
"And you think it's a shame I won't let her get on the stand and tell her story?"
"I think it's a responsibility that you've no right to take, sir," said Everly. "Please don't misunderstand me, but I'm talking to you as one attorney to another. You have a duty to your client; a duty to your profession; and a duty to yourself."
"Suppose she gets on the stand, tells her story, and then is convicted?" said Perry Mason.