tomorrow, Paul."
Mason hung up the phone and turned to Della Street.
"Gosh," he said, "I forgot all about dinner and-"
"So did I," she said, "but my stomach is now reminding me."
"Steak?" Mason asked.
She shook her head. "Ham and eggs for me."
"That sounds good," Mason said. "Come on, let's go."
Chapter Five
Mason entered his office at ten o'clock in the morning and stood in the door thoughtfully regarding Della Street.
"Della," he said, "when you have been up half the night working, why the devil don't you sleep late in the morning?"
She smiled and said, "Because I can't. I wake up and start thinking of the things that have piled up here at the office and the first thing I know I'm wide awake and up out of bed, taking a shower, cooking breakfast and catching the same old bus."
He grinned and said, "I woke up at the usual time this morning too and started to get up and take a shower, then relaxed and the first thing I knew it was eight-thirty. What's new, Della, anything?"
"Not at the moment. The-"
The phone rang. Della Street picked it up, said, "Yes, Gertie," then after a moment said, "Just a moment. I'll find out.
"Your on-again-off-again client has called the office, asking Gertie if it would be possible to have an appointment with you this morning."
"You mean Adelle Hastings?"
"Yes."
"Let me talk with her," Mason said.
Della Street said, "Just a minute, Gertie. Put her on Mr. Mason's line, will you?"
Mason picked up the phone, said, "Hello?"
Adelle Hastings' voice held a note of urgency.
"Mr. Mason, I simply must see you."
"You're here in Los Angeles?"
"Yes."
"How did you get here?"
"I couldn't get to sleep last night. The more I thought of it the more I began to think your idea might be the right one, and if it is… I want to see you, if possible before… before…"
"Before what?" Mason asked.
"Before anything happens."
"What do you mean, happens?"
"Well, if Garvin doesn't keep that ten o'clock appointment this morning Simley Beason will-Well, it will mean something very serious is wrong."
"Probably he's keeping that appointment right now," Mason said.
"That's just the point," she said. "He hasn't shown up at the office as of two or three minutes ago."
"You mean you've been on the phone talking with Mr. Beason?"
"Yes."
"That might not be too good," Mason said thoughtfully. "Where are you with reference to my office?"
"I'm in the parking lot adjoining the building."
"All right," Mason said, "now here's what I want you to do. Come up here right away but don't go to the entrance office. Now, understand that definitely. Don't go to the entrance office. Go to the door marked PERRY MASON-PRIVATE. Knock on that door and Della Street will let you in."
"I'm not to go through the reception room?"
"No."
"And I'm to come right up?"
"Yes."
"I'll be right up," she promised.
Mason hung up the phone and turned to Della Street. 'This thing bothers me, Della."
Della, who had been monitoring the telephone conversation, nodded.
"Of course," Mason said, "Adelle Hastings could be right about her purse having been stolen."
"And again," Della Street said, as Mason hesitated.
"And again," Mason said, grinning, "she could have come to the office, left her purse and walked away, knowing that someone in the office would find the purse and that the contents would arouse a great deal of interest.
"She had left enough money in the purse so that she could be certain we'd take steps to get in touch with her-even without the gun in the purse we'd have done that."
Della Street waited silently as Mason paused.
"Well?" Mason asked.
She smiled and said, "Go ahead. You're thinking out loud, just using my ears to bounce words off of so you can clarify your own thinking"
Mason might not have heard her. Abruptly he said, "Get Paul Drake on the phone right away, Della. I want to talk with him before Adelle Hastings gets up here."
Della Street's nimble fingers twisted the dial of the telephone with swift