"The Case of the Dangerous Dowager" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gardner Erle Stanley)

CHAPTER 11

MASON, DRIVING a rented car, slid into a parking space opposite the Christy Hotel, looked up and down the street, then crossed Hollywood Boulevard. A newsboy waved a paper in his face and Mason caught a glimpse of headlines reading:

LAWYER WANTED IN CONNECTION WITH GAMBLING SHIP MURDER

He bought a paper, walked through the lobby of the hotel, toward the elevator. He paused abruptly as he saw the trim figure of Sylvia Oxman emerge from one of the cages and stand for a moment searching the lobby with her eyes.

Mason abruptly whipped open the newspaper, held it up so it concealed his chest, shoulders, and the lower part of his face, only his eyes being visible over the upper edge.

Sylvia Oxman, her survey of the lobby completed, walked directly to the telephone booths. Mason followed. Still holding the newspaper in front of his face, he stood where he could observe her through the glass door of the telephone booth. She dropped a dime into the slot and dialed a number. Mason was at some pains to watch her gloved forefinger as it spun the dial. He mentally checked each number as she dialed it.

She was, he realized, calling his office.

He stepped into an adjoining booth, and pulled the door shut behind him. Through the partition he could hear Sylvia Oxman's voice. "I want to speak to Mr. Mason, please… This is a client… He'll want to speak with me, I'm sure… Well, when do you expect him?… Will you please tell him that he was called by Miss IOU. I'd better spell that for you. It's I, for Irma, O, for Olga, Y-e-w, but please see that he gets the name as just Miss I. O. Yew. Tell him that I'll call later."

She hung up the receiver. Mason cupped his hands about his mouth, leaned against the thin partition, and called, "Hello, Sylvia, this is Mr. Mason talking."

He could hear her grab at the receiver in the other booth, heard her frantic "Hello! Hello!"-then silence. He stood leaning against the partition, grinning and listening.

Abruptly the door behind him opened, and he turned to confront Sylvia Oxman's smile. "Do you know," she asked, "that you scared me to death for a minute? I recognized your voice and couldn't imagine where in the world it was coming from… Why don't you stay in your office during office hours?"

"Can't," Mason told her.

"Why not?"

By way of answer, he unfolded the newspaper and let her read the headlines.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, her eyes dark with consternation, "I didn't know it would be anything like that."

"It is," Mason told her. "Why did you run out on me?"

"I had to. Frank was aboard."

"How did you know?"

"A man told me."

"Who was the man?"

"I don't know."

Mason said, "Look here. We'd better get where we can talk. How about your room?"

"How did you know I was registered here?"

"A little bird told me."

"The maid's making the room up," she said. "That's why I came downstairs to use the telephone. Let's go over in a corner of the lobby."

"All right," Mason said, and followed her to a comfortable nook. He seated himself beside her, stretched out his long legs, and gravely offered her a cigarette. They lit from the same match, and Mason said, "All right. Let's talk."

She motioned toward the newspaper. "How much of this," she asked, "is because of what you did for me?"

"All of it."

"I'm frightfully sorry. Would it… Would it have helped any if I hadn't run out on you?"

"Not a bit," he told her. "The breaks went against me. But, first, suppose you tell me your story."

"I'm in a mess," she said.

"How much of a mess?"

"The worst possible."

"Go ahead and tell me."

"I lied to you last night," she said. "I haven't been able to sleep thinking about it. Tell me, how can I square myself?"

"By telling me the truth now," the lawyer told her.

"All right, I will. I gave Grieb and Duncan my IOU's for a gambling debt. Yesterday afternoon someone rang me up and told me that Sam Grieb was going to sell those IOU's to my husband. He said Frank was going to use them to keep me from getting my trust fund, and as evidence that I wasn't a proper person to have custody of our child, and couldn't be trusted to handle the monies she'd receive under her trust."

"What did you do?" Mason asked.

"I went right out to the ship, of course. I wanted to see if I couldn't do something about it."

"Did you have any money?"

"About two thousand dollars. That was all I'd been able to raise. I thought perhaps I could pay that as a cash bonus and get them to wait for the rest of it."

"Go ahead," Mason told her.

"I went aboard the ship," she said, "and went down to Grieb's office. There was no one in the reception room. The door to the private office wasn't closed. Before, whenever I called on Grieb, he'd hear the electric buzzer and push back the peephole in the door to see who it was."

"Had you ever found the door unlocked or open on any of your prior visits?" Mason asked.

"No. It was always locked and barred."

"What did you do this time?"

"I stood in front of the door for several seconds, waiting for Grieb to come. When he didn't come, I tapped on the door and called, 'Yoo-hoo. Anyone home?' or something like that. Then, after a moment, I said, 'This is Sylvia Oxman. May I come in?'"

"What happened?" Mason asked, studying her intently over the tip of his cigarette.

"Nothing. No one came to the door so I pushed it open and… There he was."

"You mean he was dead then?"

"Yes. Just like you found him."

"What did you do?"

"At first," she said, "I started to run. Then I realized that the papers on the desk might be my IOU's. I'd just caught a glimpse of them as I pushed the door open. But you know how something like that impresses itself on your mind. It was just as though the whole scene had been etched on my consciousness."

"Go ahead," Mason told her.

"I tiptoed over to the desk," she said. "I didn't want to touch the papers unless they were my IOU's, so I leaned across the desk to look down at them. I found they were my notes, and was just reaching for them when you came down the corridor. That rang the electric signal and threw me into a panic. At first I started to grab the IOU's, hide them and claim I'd paid cash for them before Grieb was murdered, but I realized there might not be seventy-five hundred dollars in the safe. So I decided to dash out in the other room, leave the door partially open, as I'd found it, and wait to see who was coming. Then, later on, I might be able to get rid of whoever it was and get the notes. So I ran back to the office, carefully pulled the door so it lacked about an inch of being closed, went over and sat down. I picked up a movie magazine and pretended to read."

"Then what?" Mason asked.

"Then after a while you came in," she said.

Mason scowled at her and said, "Are you telling me the truth, Sylvia?"

She nodded.

"Why didn't you want me to search your handbag?" he asked abruptly.

She met his eyes steadily and frankly, "Because I had a gun in that bag."

"What did you do with it?"

"I went up on deck and tossed it overboard. I didn't dare to let anyone know I had that gun."

"What sort of gun was it?" the lawyer asked.

"A.32 Smith and Wesson Special."

Mason studied her through half-closed eyes and said abruptly, "Sylvia, you're lying."

She straightened in her chair. Her face flushed under the make-up, then grew white. "Don't you dare accuse me of lying, Perry Mason," she said.

The lawyer made a casual gesture with the hand which held his cigarette, "All right, then," he said, "I'll point out to you the places where your story doesn't hang together."

"Go ahead," she challenged.

"In the first place, I was walking rather rapidly when I came down the corridor which leads to the office. That section of flooring which is wired to the office is within thirty feet of the door. I covered that thirty feet within six seconds. The things you've said that you did would have taken a lot more time than that."

"But it was a long time," she insisted. "You didn't open that office door for two or three minutes after the signal sounded. You must have been standing by the door or something."

Mason shook his head. "It wasn't more than six seconds at the most."

"I know better," she told him. "I heard the sound of the buzzer. That frightened me. At first I was so scared I couldn't do anything. I just stood there, leaning over the desk. Then I straightened, faced the door and waited. When nothing happened, I decided I might be able to sneak out into the other office. I didn't waste any time doing it, but I took pains to adjust the door rather carefully. Then I went over, sat down, picked up a magazine and pretended I was reading. It was quite a while after that when you opened the door. It might have been two or three minutes."

"You were excited," he told her, watching her closely. "Your judgment of time…"

"Forget my judgment of time," she interrupted. "The fact remains you didn't come right down that corridor as you claim. You paused for a minute or two outside the door."

Mason shook his head.

Her mouth was obstinate. "I heard the signal," she insisted.

"Wait a minute," Mason said, "is there any chance someone could have been hiding somewhere in that outer office? Then he could have slipped out when you went into the private office, and the signal you heard…"

"Not a chance," she interrupted.

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"All right, we'll pass that up for the moment. You say you had a gun in your bag?"

"Yes, that's why I didn't dare to let you touch it."

"And you went on deck and threw the gun overboard?"

"Yes."

"But you didn't kill Grieb?"

"I kill Grieb? Of course not."

"Then why did you throw the gun overboard?"

"Because I'd been in that room, and Grieb had been shot. I didn't want to have people think I'd done it."

"Don't you know," he said, "that a gun leaves distinctive marks on every bullet which goes through the barrel? Don't you know that the experts can tell absolutely what gun fired a fatal bullet?"

"I've heard something like that," she admitted. "But I'd been in a room where a man had been murdered. I thought the safest thing to do was to get rid of my gun. So I got rid of it."

"And in doing that, put it forever out of my power to show that your gun did not kill Grieb," Mason said.

"No one needs to know I had a gun."

"How long had you been carrying it?"

"Some little time. I'd been doing quite a bit of gambling. Sometimes I won and sometimes I lost. I carried considerable cash with me on occasion and I didn't want to be held up."

Mason smoked for a few moments in thoughtful silence, then said, "That story doesn't hang together. It doesn't fit in with the other facts. No jury on earth would ever believe it. But years of practicing law have taught me to put more reliance in my judgment of character than in my ability to correlate events. Looking at you when you talk, I feel you're telling the truth. I'm going to stick with you, Sylvia; but God help you if you ever have to tell that story to a jury."

"But I won't have to," she said. "No one knows I was in there… except you."

He shook his head, watched the smoke eddy upward from the tip of his cigarette, and said, "In addition to Belgrade's sell-out, there's another hurdle. You left fingerprints, Sylvia."

"Where?"

"On the desk. When you put your left hand on the glass top and leaned over to look at the IOU's, you left a perfect print of your palm and fingers."

She frowned. "Couldn't you claim that had been done earlier in the day?"

"No. They know better, Sylvia. There were no other prints on top of that hand print. It wasn't even smudged."

"All right," she said, "I'll take my medicine if I have to. But don't think you'll ever get me to go on the witness stand and tell a story which isn't the truth. I'll tell the truth if it kills me."

"It probably will," Mason said grimly… "Why did you run out on me, Sylvia?"

"I told you why. Because I'd learned my husband was aboard."

"How did you learn it?"

"A man told me."

"Who was this man?"

"I don't know."

"Had you ever seen him before?"

"Not before that night, but I'd seen him two or three times during the evening. I…"

"Go on," he urged, as her voice trailed away into silence.

"I have an idea he may have been following me."

"What did he say to you?"

"He said, 'Beat it, Sylvia, your husband's aboard,' or something like that. I remember he used the words, 'Beat it.'"

"When did he tell you that?"

"Just as I stepped out on deck."

"Could you describe him?"

"Yes. He wore a blue serge suit, black shoes with thick soles, a blue-and-black striped tie with an opal tie pin. He was about fifty years old, with thick, black hair, and a stubby black mustache. He wasn't particularly tall, but he was quite heavy."

"Had you spoken to him during the evening?"

"No."

"And you thought he might be following you?"

"Well, you understand how it is with an unattached woman on a gambling ship. People look her over. Some of the more persistent hang around."

"In other words, you thought this man was a masher?"

"Yes."

"Do you still think so?"

"I don't know."

"He evidently knew your husband."

She nodded.

"And for some reason warned you that your husband was aboard."

Again she nodded.

"Did you see your husband?"

"No."

Mason ground out the stub of his cigarette in the ash tray, doubled up his knees, leaned forward, placed his elbows on them, interlaced his fingers, and stared thoughtfully at the carpet. "This didn't look so hot when I started in, Sylvia," he said, "and it keeps getting worse as we go along."

"Well, I can't help it. I've told you the truth, and…" She broke off as a newsboy delivered an armload of papers to the bellboy. As the bellboy stacked the papers on the glass top of the cigar stand, Mason, glancing at Sylvia Oxman's face, saw her eyes widen.

"What is it?" he asked, without taking his eyes from her face.

"Those newspapers."

"What newspapers?"

"The ones the boy just brought in."

"What about them?"

"Look at the headlines… No, he's turned the papers down now so you can't see the headlines… Here, boy…"

"Wait a minute," Mason interrupted. "You sit tight. I'll stroll by and pick up a couple of papers."

He sauntered over to the cigar stand, bought a package of cigarettes, and then, as an afterthought, bought two of the noon editions. Huge headlines across the front page read:

OXMAN ACCUSES WIFE IN GAMBLING SHIP MURDER

Down below appeared in smaller headlines:

PROMINENT ATTORNEY SHIELDING WIFE, BROKER CLAIMS.

Mason tucked the papers under his arm, crossed over to where Sylvia Oxman was waiting, sat down beside her and said, "This looks bad, Sylvia. I think it's a jolt you're going to have to take right on the chin. Don't show any emotion. Someone may be watching us. Read it as though you were only casually interested."

The cold tips of her fingers brushed across the back of his hand as she took one of the papers, nodded, and settled back in the chair. Mason hitched his chair around so the light came over his shoulder, and read:

"In a surprise statement made to police today, Frank Oxman, well-known broker and popular clubman, disclosed evidence which police claim completely solves the mysterious murder of Sam Grieb, proprietor of the gambling ship, The Horn of Plenty.

"Prior to Oxman's statement, the case had presented some of the most spectacular and mystifying angles ever encountered by local police. While there is a technical question of legal jurisdiction, because, at the time of the murder, the gambling ship was anchored beyond the twelve-mile limit, both local police and the sheriff's office are co-operating with the federal authorities in an attempt to solve the murder. The federal authorities, following their usual procedure, refused to comment, other than to state they were making progress. It was, however, learned from a source high in police circles that the case is now completely solved. It only remains to dispose of incidental matters, including among others, the part played by a well-known criminal attorney whose recent spectacular successes have made his name a family byword.

"The authorities were frantically running down numerous clues in the most mystifying murder of the year, when Frank Oxman's surprise statement, released through Worsham amp; Weaver, his attorneys, came with the force of a bombshell. Its repercussions will undoubtedly involve at least one well-known lawyer, and may drag a wealthy, white-haired great-grandmother into the toils of the law. This woman was at one time supposed to have committed suicide. In the light of Oxman's statement, police are now inclined to scout the suicide theory.

"While the broker's statement was given secretly by his attorneys to the authorities, it is understood the police may shortly make the statement public. In the meantime, while Worsham amp; Weaver refused to discuss any matters contained in the statement, they did admit such a statement had been prepared in their offices and submitted to the federal investigators. The attorneys refused to divulge the location of their client, but Oxman was run to earth by an Associated Press reporter, and admitted he had disclosed facts involving his wife in the murder.

"Evidently in the grip of strong emotion, he admitted that he and his wife had been estranged for some weeks. A mutual love for their child had, according to the broker, been instrumental in delaying the institution of legal action seeking to dissolve the marriage.

"In short broken sentences, Oxman, pacing the floor of a downtown-hotel bedroom, told a story so filled with drama, so startling in its implications, as to rival any situation ever created in the field of mystery fiction.

"'My wife and I had been separated for several weeks,' he said. 'I didn't know whether she intended to file a divorce complaint, but presumed she did. I was waiting for her to take the initiative. Then, by chance, I learned that not only had she lost all of her available cash, but had given demand IOU's to a firm of gamblers.

"'I had, of course, known she made trips to Ensenada and Reno. I knew that she liked to gamble, but had supposed she did it only as an amusement. I had no idea she was jeopardizing her future as well as that of our child, by plunging wildly at the tables.

"'Immediately upon learning the true situation, I tried, without success, to get in touch with my wife. Twice during the day the gamblers advised me that, unless these IOU's were taken up before midnight, they were going to collect by legal proceedings. I saw no reason why I should take up my wife's gambling debts; but I wanted to spare our daughter the publicity which I knew would result if suit were filed.

"'So I raised the amount of the IOU's in cash and took the money out to the gambling ship. It was exactly seventy-five hundred dollars. I don't know at just what time I reached the vessel, but it was during the early evening. I asked an attendant to direct me to the offices, and was sent down an L-shaped passageway to an entrance room, and told to knock upon a heavy wooden door. I did so, and a wicket shot back. A man asked me what I wanted. At the time, I didn't know this was Mr. Grieb as I had never seen him before.

"'I told him who I was. He said he was Grieb. He opened the door, let me come into the private office, and closed the door behind me. He explained he had to keep this door locked because the ship was on the high seas and beyond police protection and they kept a lot of money aboard.

"'I found Grieb affable but businesslike. He was, he explained, not in the banking business. He claimed my wife had given the IOU's with the positive assurance they would be taken up within forty-eight hours. Grieb said he didn't intend to be left, as he expressed it, "holding the sack." He said unless the IOU's were taken up immediately, he was going to commence proceedings to subordinate the trust fund to the lien of his notes.

"'I pointed out to him that he couldn't do that. The IOU's were given for a gambling debt. No court would subject a trust fund to any such lien. Grieb knew that I was prepared to take up the IOU's rather than have any publicity. While he didn't say so in so many words, he intimated that publicity was his chief weapon. I had to pay, and he knew it. I paid him seventy-five hundred dollars in cash and received in return three IOU's signed by my wife. I naturally expected eventually to collect these from her. I have a good brokerage business, but I'm not wealthy, and my entire assets are small as compared with the large amount of money which will be coming to my wife within a few months. I wanted to spare our child the publicity incident to a suit such as Grieb might have filed; but I certainly didn't intend to stretch my credit to pay for my wife's gambling.

"'I put the IOU's in my wallet and left the gambling ship, refusing an invitation from Mr. Grieb to be shown around the ship. Mr. Grieb was obdurate insofar as the business transaction was concerned, but was very affable once it had been concluded.

"'I left his offices, went into the bar, and had a couple of drinks. I went to the dining room and had a steak sandwich. I started to leave the ship, and then remembered that Grieb had given me no receipt and had made no written assignment of the IOU's. Under ordinary circumstances this wouldn't have been necessary, but my relationship to Sylvia, coupled with the fact that these IOU's were demand notes upon printed forms, convinced me I should have a written assignment. I'd had to borrow some money to get the necessary cash and I wanted to have everything done properly. I walked down the L-shaped passageway which led to Grieb's offices, paused while I took the IOU's from my wallet. Then I pushed open the door to the reception office. As I did so, I noticed that the door of the inner office was standing wide open.

"'I was surprised at this, because Grieb had explained to me this door was always kept closed and locked.

"'I tiptoed across the outer office, being afraid that might perhaps be interrupting a business conference. What I saw left me utterly speechless.

"'My wife was standing in the inner office, an automatic in her right hand. I saw Grieb slumped over the desk, his head and shoulder resting on the corner of the desk. There was a gaping wound in the left-hand side of his head, and blood was trickling from this wound.

"'For a moment I was at a complete loss. I wasn't certain but what my wife might turn the gun on me. So I stepped back into the outer office, then walked rapidly down the corridor, intending to wait for Sylvia to come out, then ask her what she had done, and demand that she surrender to the police. I was badly shaken by what I had seen.

"'I was standing near the entrance to the offices when I saw a tall, athletic-looking man with broad shoulders start for the offices, I couldn't place this man at first, but within a second or two I identified him as Perry Mason, the noted attorney. Mr. Mason had been pointed out to me once at a banquet, and he is not one to be readily forgotten.

"'I knew then that he must inevitably stumble upon a scene such as I had encountered. I was, therefore, content to leave the responsibility on the lawyer's shoulders. So I went at once to the deck, where I waited for a few minutes, trying to compose myself, and wondering what I should do. I remembered reading somewhere that a husband couldn't testify against his wife in court, but I wasn't certain whether my failure to report what I'd seen would make me a legal accessory to the murder.

"'I decided to go ashore and see a lawyer.

"'The only lawyer I trusted was Mr. P. C. Worsham, of Worsham amp; Weaver. Mr. Worsham has handled all my legal business, and knows Sylvia and knows me. I tried to reach him by telephone, but didn't actually talk with him until nearly daylight this morning. He went to his office at once and I told him exactly what I had seen. He insisted I should prepare a written statement. He said I owed it to myself and to the authorities to report what I had seen. Under his direction I prepared such a statement.

"'I don't know what happened after Perry Mason went into those offices. But I do know he walked down that corridor leading to the offices, while my wife was there. I didn't see either my wife or Perry Mason come out. I didn't wait for that. I went to the deck of the ship, and remained there for several minutes, trying to clarify my thoughts. I don't know exactly how long I was on deck. Unfortunately, I didn't think to look at my watch. I was completely unnerved.'

"Oxman refused to state whether he retained a copy of the written statement he had prepared at the suggestion of his attorneys and which has, it is understood, been submitted to the federal authorities. He was in a highly nervous condition when interviewed. The three IOU's which he had redeemed were in his possession and he produced these readily enough.

"It was learned that police have accepted Oxman's statement at its face value, as it is supported by an array of corroborating facts. Oxman was questioned, and released upon his assurance that he would appear before the Federal Grand Jury late this afternoon."

(Continued on page three.)

Mason turned the newspaper to page three, and saw facsimiles of three IOU's bearing the signature of Sylvia Oxman. There were also photographs of the gambling ship, a picture of Sylvia Oxman, and one of Frank Oxman. Various articles rehashed the front-page story from different angles:… sob-sister had written about the plight of a husband who must testify against the woman who has borne him a child; another article took up the Matilda Benson disappearance. Glancing hastily through it, Mason saw there was conjecture as to whether Sylvia Oxman's grandmother had learned of Sylvia's connection with the crime and committed suicide, or if, perhaps, she had been an accomplice whose disappearance was connected with that of Sylvia Oxman. Some prominence was given to the statement of an eye-witness who claimed to have seen Perry Mason and a woman who answered the description of Matilda Benson talking earnestly in the bar of the gambling ship shortly before the arrival of the officers. The witness was positive that this was after the murder had been discovered, because he had tried to leave the ship. The crew were making repairs to the landing-stage, repairs which were admittedly unnecessary, and which had been ordered following the discovery of the murder, as a subterfuge to keep patrons aboard the ship until the officers could arrive.

Mason looked across at Sylvia Oxman. "How much of that," he asked, "is the truth?"

"None of it," she said. "He didn't see me in that office. He's lying."

"And he didn't see you with the gun?"

"Of course not. That's Frank Oxman for you. You can't trust him for a minute. He'll stab you in the back whenever he has an opportunity. He wanted to divorce me… Sending me to prison on a murder charge would suit his purpose just that much better."

Mason indicated the facsimiles of the IOU's. "Where did he get those, Sylvia?" he asked.

"Why," she said, "he must have picked them up from Sam Grieb's desk… unless… unless he got them through you in some way."

Mason pulled another cigarette from his cigarette case, tapped it on his thumb, and said, "Sylvia, I paid off those IOU's."

"You did what?"

"Paid them off."

"But you couldn't have. They were there when…"

"I know," he told her. "I burned them before Duncan came in."

"But isn't that illegal?" she asked. "Couldn't they…?"

"No," Mason said. "I paid them off. Acting as an attorney who had been retained to represent your interests, I found those IOU's and paid them."

"But couldn't they make trouble for you over that?" she asked.

"They could make trouble for me," he admitted, "over lots of things I do. That doesn't keep me from doing what I think is right. And when I'm doing something which furthers the ultimate ends of justice, I think it's right. Take another look at those IOU's, Sylvia."

She studied the facsimiles carefully, then leaned forward to stare more intently at the paper. "Why," she said, "they're forgeries!"

"Good forgeries?" Mason asked.

"Yes, they look exactly like my signature. I know that they're forgeries, however, because I remember that I didn't have my own fountain pen with me when I signed the first of those IOU's. I had to use a pen Grieb gave me, and it wasn't suited to my style of writing. The pen point ran through the paper at one place and made a blot. I thought perhaps I'd better make a new note, but Grieb said that one would be all right. I remember it particularly, because I noticed that blot on the signature last night when I saw the notes on Grieb's desk."

Mason said, "Come to think of it, I noticed it myself. Well, that's that." He smoked in thoughtful silence for several minutes while Sylvia finished reading the newspaper account of Oxman's accusation and the current developments in the case.

Sylvia Oxman folded the paper and said indignantly, "It makes me sick! Of all the lies…"

Mason interrupted her to say, "Wait a minute, Sylvia. I think I can tell you what happened."

"What?" she asked.

"There's some chance," he told her, "that Frank actually did see you in that office."

"I tell you it's a lie! He's just…"

"Hold everything," Mason warned. "Don't jump at conclusions. The evidence of the man who was shadowing you is that Frank Oxman went down the corridor to the offices while you were still in the offices. He was only gone a minute or so, then turned around and came out. Now then, let's suppose, just for the sake of the argument, that while you were sitting in the outer office, you couldn't have heard the electric buzzer in the inner office. Now, let's suppose that Frank Oxman came down the passageway while you were still in the outer office, but just as you were about to push open the door to the inner office. You, therefore, wouldn't have heard the buzzer which announced his coming down the corridor. His statement says he hesitated for some little time in front of the door to the outer office. Let's suppose, for the sake of the argument, that he did.

"Then he opened the door, walked in, saw you leaning over the desk, and saw Grieb's body. He was at first frightened, then recognized the wonderful opportunity he'd have to pin a murder charge on you. He felt, of course, that you'd take and destroy the IOU's which were lying in plain sight on Sam Grieb's desk. Having done that, he felt that you were completely in his power. So he retraced his steps back down the corridor. As he went over that wired section of floor, you heard the signal, because you were then in the inner office. You thought it was someone coming, so you went back to the outer office, picked up the magazine and sat reading. A few minutes later, I came down the corridor, but you couldn't hear the electric signal then, because you were in the outer office. That would tie everything together. What you heard when you were in the inner office wasn't the signal of my approach, but the signal made by Frank Oxman as he left."

There was dismay in her eyes. "You make it sound so d-d-damn logical," she said. "I could almost hate you for it."

"Keep cool," Mason told her, "and don't cry."

"I'm not crying," she said in a harsh, strained voice.

Mason flipped ashes from his cigarette and said, "Okay, Sylvia, I think I know what to do."

"What?"

"I had to destroy those IOU's," he said, "because I didn't want them found on the scene of the crime, and I certainly didn't want them found on me. But you're the only one who knows I destroyed them. Now then, I'm going to step into a stationery store and get a book of blank notes. I can find exactly the same form which Grieb and Duncan kept aboard the ship. Then, using these facsimiles to go by, we'll make duplicate IOU's, duly signed and dated."

"But won't that put my head right back in the noose?" she asked.

"It will if we make them public," he said, "but think of the spot it's going to put Frank Oxman in if he thinks the original IOU's are in the hands of the district attorney. That will brand his IOU's as forgeries and his whole statement as a lie, fabricated out of whole cloth."

She nodded and said, "I see your point. Go get the blanks."