Perry Mason nodded toward the dressing room.
"Get dressed," he said.
"Can't I wait until morning?"
"No," he told her, "there's a chance the police may come tonight."
"But I thought you wanted me to talk with the police. I thought you wanted me to let them think I was the girl in the white coat that the officer had seen coming from the apartment."
"I've changed my mind," Mason said. "Get dressed."
She got to her feet, took two steps toward the dressingcloset, then suddenly turned to face him.
"You understand one thing, Perry Mason," she said in a tone that was vibrant, "I know that I can trust you. I know that you stand back of your clients. There's only one reason that I'm doing this, and that's for Marjorie. I want that kid to get a square deal."
Mason nodded grimly.
"Never mind that," he said, "get dressed."
Perry Mason resumed his pacing of the floor while Thelma Bell was dressing. When she emerged, fully clothed, including a small suitcase which she carried in her hand, Perry Mason looked at his watch.
"Do you suppose," he said, "you could go a bite of breakfast?"
"I'll tell the world I could go some coffee," she said.
Mason took her arm and transferred the light suitcase to his hand.
"Let's go," he said.
They left the apartment. The negro in the lobby was awake as they went out. He stared at them with roundeyed curiosity, but there was a dazed, sleepsodden look about his face which made his stare seem uncomprehending.
Mason signaled his taxicab.
"Drive down the street," he said, "and stop at the first restaurant that's open, then wait."
The cab driver found a restaurant within two blocks. Perry Mason escorted Thelma Bell into the restaurant and ordered ham and eggs for himself, and, at her nod, doubled the order. A waiter slid a thick glass filled with water across the counter, pushed knives and forks into position.
Perry Mason suddenly gave a guilty start.
"My wallet!" he said.
"What about it?"
"It's gone," he told her. "I must have left it in your apartment."
"I don't think so," she said, "you didn't take it out, did you?"
"Yes," Mason said, "I was looking for an address. It's got my cards in it. I don't want the officers to know I was there.
"Give me your keys. I'll take a run up and get it."
"I can go," she said.
"No," he told her, "you wait here. I don't want you to get around that apartment any more. The officers may be there any minute."
"What will happen if they find you there?"
"I'll tell them that I am looking for you."
"But what about the key?"
"I won't go in unless the coast is clear."
She gave him the key to the apartment. Perry Mason caught the eye of the waiter.
"Put on one of those orders of ham and eggs," he said, "and lots of coffee. Save the other one until I get back."
He strode rapidly out of the restaurant to the taxicab, and told the driver, "Get back to the St. James Apartments as quick as you can. Step on it."
The cab driver spun the cab about in a complete turn and pushed the motor into speed. Within a short time he had traversed the empty street and pulled up in front of the apartment house. Perry Mason ran through the lobby. This time the colored boy was staring at him with eyes that were filled with interest. Mason took the elevator to the third floor, opened the door of the apartment, switched on the light, closed the door behind him, turned the bolt into position so that the door could not be opened from the outside, and then started a swift search of the apartment. He did not look in the drawers of the builtin dresser, nor in the likely places, but prowled around in the dark corners of the closet. It took him but a matter of seconds to find a leather hat box thrust back into a corner of a closet shelf, with clothes piled in front of it so that the hat box was concealed.
Mason pulled out the hat box, snapped back the catch and pulled open the lid.
There was a woman's skirt, a pair of stockings and some white shoes in the hat box. They had been washed and were still damp. The moisture had soaked into the hat box, and it gave forth a steamy smell as the lid was pulled up.
The stockings showed no trace of stain, but there were one or two spots on the skirt which had not been removed, and the shoes showed unmistakable spots of brownish stain.
Perry Mason snapped the lid back on the hat box and left the apartment.
"Does you all live here?" the colored boy at the desk asked.
Perry Mason flipped a round silver dollar across the desk.
"No," he said, "I'm just taking a friend's apartment for the day."
"What's the number of it?" asked the colored boy.
"509," Perry Mason said, and pushed through the outer door of the lobby before there could be any further questions. He gave the hat box to the taxi driver.
"Take me back to the restaurant," he said. "Then go down to the Union Depot, buy a ticket to College City, check this hat box on the ticket, bring me back the ticket and the check, hand them to me where the young lady doesn't see them. Do you get that straight?"
The cab driver nodded.
Perry Mason passed him a twenty dollar bill.
"Step on it," he said.
Mason reentered the restaurant. Thelma Bell looked up from her plate of ham and eggs.
"Did you find it?" she asked.
He nodded.
"Fell out of my pocket," he said, "when I was sitting in the chair. It's a good thing I found it; it was lying right in plain sight. The officers would have picked it up and might have made some trouble because I'd have told them that I hadn't been to your apartment."
The waiter thrust his head through an arched hole in the partition which led to the kitchen and bellowed, "Put on those eggs and finish the ham."
Perry Mason sat down at the counter and stirred the coffee which the waiter placed in front of him.
"Was any one there?" she asked.
"No," he told her, "but they may be at any time."
"You seem to be pretty positive about that."
"I am."
"You know," she said, pausing with a piece of ham half way to her mouth, "no matter what happens, we have got to protect Margy."
Perry Mason said bluntly, "That's what I'm being paid for."
There was an interval of silence. The waiter brought Mason his ham and eggs. He wolfed them down and was finished by the time Thelma Bell was finished.
"All right, sister," he said, "we're going places."
"Can you tell me where?"
"Some place not too far away."
"I've got a couple of appointments tomorrow and the next day to do some modeling work."
"Ditch them."
"I haven't any money."
"You will have," he told her.
He finished the last of his coffee, wiped his lips with a napkin, looked across at her.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Ready," she said.
He took her arm and piloted her to the door of the restaurant. The cab drove up just as they emerged to the sidewalk.
"Here you are, boss," said the driver, holding out his hand palm down.
Perry Mason took the ticket and the check.
"What's that?" asked Thelma Bell suspiciously.
"An errand I had the cab driver do," he told her.
"Have you got enough change to cover the amount of the meter?" Mason asked the cab driver.
"I sure have, and then some," said the cab driver, and added audaciously, "enough to make a mighty nice little tip for me."
Mason stared intently at Thelma Bell.
"Can I trust you?" he asked.
"As long as it's for Margy, yes."