It's all a question of intent, and you know as well as I do that it's damn near impossible to prove intent by a preponderance of the evidence as it's required in a civil case, let alone to prove it beyond all reasonable doubt, as is required in a criminal case.
"But if you want to get in touch with Patton and try to take him apart and see what makes him tick, you go right ahead."
"And the limit?" asked Perry Mason.
"So far as this office is concerned," Manchester said, "the sky's the limit. That is, we couldn't countenance mayhem. We couldn't overlook beating up with a club, but a rubber hose might be different. In other words, if Patton shows up at this office and tells any story of sharp practice or abuse at your hands, we'll scrutinize that story with a great deal of skepticism and we'll ask him a lot of questions about his occupation. Our attitude toward him won't be exactly friendly."
"That," said Perry Mason, with his hand on the knob of the door, "is all I wanted to know. And don't tell Doray about me."
"Get a confession out of him," Manchester called as Mason was stepping through the doorway to the corridor, "and I think Cloverdale will do something with him."
"When I get a confession out of him," Perry Mason said grimly, "I'll show all of you fellows something."
He closed the door behind him, paused for a joking comment with Maude Elton, left the court house and took a taxicab to his office.
The blonde girl who operated the cigar counter in the lobby of the building, twisted crimson lips into a flashing smile.
"Hello, Mr. Mason," she said.
Perry Mason paused to lean against the counter.
"Marlboros?" she asked.
"A package," he told her.
"Going to shake for them?" she asked.
"No," he said, "I'll pay cash."
He counted out the money, took the package of cigarettes, tore off a corner and leaned with one elbow on the glass of the showcase.
"You work all the time?" he asked.
She smiled and shook her head.
"You're on evenings," he said.
"Yes," she told him, "I come down evenings to catch the theater trade."
"And you're on mornings and afternoons?"
She smiled, and shook her head slightly from side to side.
"What are you trying to do," she asked, "make me feel sorry for myself? When a woman has a child to bring up and a mother to take care of, she has to work. And she's mighty lucky to find work."
"How old's the girl now?" asked Perry Mason.
She laughed. "Just the same as she was the last time I told you—five and a half. You ask me regularly about once a month."
Perry Mason's grin was sheepish.
"I keep forgetting," he said, "in between times."
He pulled out a wallet from his inside pocket, took out a twentydollar bill.
"Put that in the kid's savings account, will you, Mamie?"
There were swift tears in her eyes.
"Listen," she said, "why do you always do that? I don't like it. I can't refuse for the kid, but I'm getting by here all right, making a living, and —"
"It's just like I told you the last time, Mamie," he said.
"Superstition?" she asked, staring at him with eyes that were hard and bright as those of a wild duck.
He nodded his head.
"I guess all gamblers get that way, Mamie, and I'm one of the biggest gamblers in the world. I gamble with human emotions instead of with cards. Every time I've made a little deposit for the kid's account, it's brought me luck."
Slowly her hand came out and the fingers closed over the bill. Tears once more softened her eyes.
"You're commencing to get me half sold that it is superstition," she said, "and that shows how good you are."
Perry Mason started to say something, but turned as he heard some one call his name.
Paul Drake, the detective, and J.R. Bradbury were just emerging from the lobby of the office building.
Paul Drake was a tall man with drooping shoulders. He carried his head thrust slightly forward. His eyes were glassy and prominent. His face was twisted into an expression of droll humor. The eyes held no expression whatever.
"Hello, Perry," he said, "were you just going out?"
Mason looked at his wristwatch.
"I was just coming in," he said. "I've been down for a chat with the D.A.'s office. I see you and Bradbury have had your heads together. What did you accomplish—anything?"
Bradbury's quick gray eyes glinted to Perry Mason's face with swift affirmation.
"I'll say," he said. "This man knows more about the case now than I ever did." His eyes shifted over to the smiling blonde back of the cigar counter.
"Hello, sister," he said, "I'm buying some cigars. Pull out that box over there in the righthand corner."
He tapped on the glass of the showcase with his finger.
Mamie brought out the box of cigars.
"Ever try these?" asked Bradbury. "They're a fine twentyfivecent cigar."
Mason nodded, picked out a cigar.
"Take a couple," said Bradbury.
Mason took two cigars.
Bradbury slid the box toward Paul Drake.
"Take a couple," he said.
Drake took two of the cigars and Bradbury took two, and clinked a couple of silver dollars on the glass showcase.
"I'd like to talk with you about this case, Perry," said the detective, as Mamie rang up the sale in the cash register, and pulled change from the compartment of the cash drawer.
"When?" asked Mason.
"Right now, if you can spare the time."
Mamie handed Bradbury the change. Bradbury's gray eyes stared directly at her. His face was twisted into a friendly grin.
"Nice day," he said.
She nodded brightly.
Perry Mason looked at his watch.
"Okay," he said, "I can run up to the office, I guess."
Bradbury turned away from the blonde.
"You folks will want me there?" he asked.
"No," Paul Drake said, "it won't be necessary. I just want to talk over some of the legal points with Mr. Mason and find out just where we stand."
"In other words," Bradbury said, "you'd prefer not to have me there?"
"You don't need to be there," Paul Drake told him. "And you can't do any good by being present. I've got all the information that you have, I think."
"You should have," Bradbury told him, and laughed lightly. "You've asked enough questions."
He reached up with his left hand and took the lapel of Perry Mason's coat, pulling him gently away from the cigar counter and lowering his voice confidentially. "There's one thing," he said, "that I want to make certain about."
"What is it?" Mason asked.
"I've learned," said Bradbury, "that Bob Doray is in the city. I want you to understand that the employment you have taken from me precludes you from accepting any employment from him, except with my consent."
"Who's Bob Doray?" asked Perry Mason.
"He's from Cloverdale.