The lawyer nodded.
“I suppose,” Allred went on, “that Pat got to playing one against the other, the way a woman will, and went too far. Perhaps she really picked Bagley and gave Bob the mitten. You can’t tell.”
“Can’t you ask her?” Mason inquired.
“Not Pat. She has a mind of her own. She thinks I tried to dominate her and resented it. All a misunderstanding, I can assure you, Mason, but that’s the way she feels. Well, anyway, if she did jilt Bob for John, she certainly put me in a spot.
“I suppose Bob decided he wanted to show Pat she wasn’t the only girl in the world, and he wanted to humiliate her, so he ran off with her mother. Sure puts me in a hell of a spot! But I can’t imagine Lola doing anything like that.”
Mason merely nodded.
“Hang it all!” Allred went on irritably, “even if Lola didn’t give a damn about me, if she wanted to do everything she could to hurt me or to make me ridiculous, you still can’t imagine her pulling a trick like that.”
“Did she do what she did solely to hurt you, or make you ridiculous?” Mason asked.
“It looks that way, doesn’t it?”
Mason remained silent.
“I suppose the only explanation is that Lola had been secretly in love with him for some time. She probably felt that Pat didn’t really love him. I suppose she was afraid to tell me she wanted a divorce and wait for the thing to be handled in a decent way, because if she had, Bob would probably have wriggled off her hook. After all, no matter how young looking and attractive a woman is, when she ties up with a man who’s fifteen years younger than she is — well, it’s only a question of time, Mason. It’s only a question of time.”
“Exactly what do you want me to do?” Mason asked “Make comments on your domestic entanglements, or give you information?”
“As a matter of fact, I wanted information, Mason.”
“So I gathered.”
“But only as a preliminary to something else.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“I wanted to find out if you were representing my wife. I want a definite answer on that.”
“I can’t give it to you.”
“If you are representing her, I want to establish communication with her.”
“She’ll get in touch with you, if she wants to, I suppose,” Mason said.
“Dammit, it isn’t what she wants. It’s what I want.”
“Yes?”
“Yes! I want to get Bob Fleetwood.”
“And Fleetwood,” Mason said, “knowing something of the risks one naturally runs in encountering an irate husband, is equally anxious to keep out of your way.”
“That’s just the point,” Allred said earnestly. “He doesn’t need to be afraid of me.”
“Perhaps it’s not fear. Perhaps just prudence.”
“Well, whatever it is, I want him to get in touch with me.”
“A desire on your part which he may decide to ignore.”
“Look here,” Allred said, “I’m going to put some more cards on the table.”
“Go right ahead.”
“Do you know anything about my business, Mason?”
“I know generally you’re in the mining business.”
“The mining business,” Allred went on, “is the greatest gamble in the world. You buy a prospect. It looks good. You pour money into development work. You think it’s going to make you a million dollars. It turns out to be a lemon. You have sunk more money than you can afford. Naturally there’s a great temptation to try and unload that, and get at least part of your money out.”
Mason nodded.
“On the other hand, you get some little hole in the ground and start scratching around, deciding you’re not going to spend very much on it, and the first thing you know, you’ve blundered into a lot of rich ore. Do you know George Jerome?”
Mason shook his head.
“He’s my partner in quite a few mining deals. Nice chap, has a lot of technical knowledge. A pretty hard man to fool, George Jerome.”
“And how does George Jerome enter into the picture?”
“We owned the White Horse Mine. We traded it to Dixon Keith for a mine he owned and a little cash. It was a pretty good trade. What I’d call an even swap.”
Mason glanced at his wrist watch.
“I’m only going to take up a minute. Only a minute. It all ties in to this problem about my wife,” Allred said. “Keith traded properties with his eyes open. He thought he was handing us a lemon. I happened to know that he thought his property wasn’t worth a thin dime. That’s where we fooled him, thanks very largely to my partner’s technical knowledge.
“Well, anyway, the mine we got from Dixon Keith proved to be valuable. The fact is, the vein was pinching out. Keith thought he’d better unload the property. George decided there had been a fault, and that Keith had missed the main vein. Well, anyway, George opened up the drift in a different direction, and within three weeks after we’d taken possession, we struck it rich — that is, pretty rich.
“We tried to keep the thing secret, but in some way it leaked out. Keith got wind of it, and naturally was furious. The best thing he could do was to try and rescind the contract, put the swap back to where it had been at the start. So he claimed we’d misrepresented our property to him and said that he wanted a rescission of the contract. Naturally, we told him to go jump in the lake.”
“And what did he do?” Mason asked.
“Got a lawyer and started suit, claiming we were guilty of fraudulent misrepresentations and we hadn’t told him about this, that, and the other, that he had relied on our word and hadn’t ever made an investigation of the property in person. Now that’s a lie, Mason. Dixon Keith went out to that property. He looked it over. He made a thorough study of it and even if we had given him any information, which we didn’t, he wouldn’t have relied on it.
“The law of fraud, as I understand it, is that if a man relies on false representation, that’s one thing; but if he makes an independent investigation and buys the property as the result of that independent investigation, his hands are tied.”
“That, generally, is the law,” Mason said. “There are, of course, certain exceptions...”
“I know, I know, but I’m not talking about the exceptions now. I’m talking about the law. Because this case is dead open and shut. It’s a plain case of a man trying to back out of a contract.”
“Can you prove Keith went out to inspect your property?” Mason asked.
“Now then, there’s the whole point of the matter,” Allred admitted. “There’s only one person who can prove that.”
“Who?”
“Robert Gregg Fleetwood,” Allred said bitterly. “The man who has run off with my wife.”
“The situation,” Mason said, smiling faintly, “would seem to be complicated.”
“It is complicated — it’s annoying — it’s embarrassing. I picked Fleetwood up and made something of him. He’s a lazy no-good. He’s run off with my wife, and now he’s jeopardizing a lawsuit because no one knows where to get in touch with him. Dixon Keith evidently knows what’s up. He’s trying to rush the case on for immediate trial. He wants to take my deposition. He wants to take my partner, George Jerome’s, deposition. We’re in a fix, Mason. We don’t want to rely on the claim that he used his independent judgment and made a trip to inspect the White Horse claim, unless we can prove it. You try to depend on something in a lawsuit and then fall down on the proof — well, you’re a lawyer yourself. You know how that goes.”
“And exactly what,” Mason asked, “do you want me to do? I’m not in a position to represent you in your mining litigation.”
“I understand all that. We have a lawyer.”
“Then what do you want me to do?”