Drake frowned, and said, “What are you getting at, Perry?”
“Read that description again — the one that you have of L. C. Conway.”
“I get you,” Drake said. He pulled out his notebook, glanced through the description and said, “It fits. Of course, Perry, it would fit a lot of men.”
“I know,” Mason said, “but it’s worth a play. Milicant will leave my office in about two minutes. Do you have an operative you can put on his tail?”
“I’ll have a man on him when he leaves,” Drake promised.
Mason returned to his own office, said, “I wanted to look up a matter. I won’t need to keep you any longer, Mr. Milicant.”
Milicant crossed over to shake hands with Mason. “If there’s anything I can do,” he said, “don’t hesitate to call on me.”
“I won’t,” Mason said, and then to Phyllis Leeds, “How are you making it?”
Her face showed hard lines. There were puffs under her eyes. “All right,” she said. “It would be a lot better if I thought Uncle Alden was all right.”
“He’s all right,” Mason said. “Some doctor has him under opiates right now. That habeas corpus is going to scare them into the open. How’s Barkler getting along?”
“I don’t know. He isn’t there. I don’t know where he went.”
“When did he leave?”
“Early this morning.”
“Say where he was going?”
“No. He’s peculiar. He comes and goes as he pleases.”
Mason said, “All right. Go on back home. Try and get some rest. Take it easy. This is just preliminary skirmishing. Save your energy for the main fight. When we have that habeas corpus hearing, keep Emily Milicant out of the picture. I don’t want her to seem too interested.”
“Why?” John Milicant asked.
“Judge Treadwell might think she was waiting to sink her hooks into Leeds as soon as the court freed him,” Mason said.
“I get you,” Milicant nodded. “That’s good advice. Come on, Phyllis. I have to rush to keep an appointment.”
Chapter 4
Judge Treadwell’s courtroom was well crowded. Phyllis Leeds, seated within the bar, looking ill at ease, returned Mason’s reassuring smile with a nervous twist of the lips.
She indicated that she wanted to whisper to him, and Mason bent down so his ear was close to her lips. “Why all the people?” she asked.
Mason said, “Newspaper notoriety, money, romance, and a fight. People flock to that combination like flies to a honey jar... Now can you give me a line on the other relatives without seeming to point them out?”
“I think so,” she said. “That’s Jason talking with the lawyer now. The man seated back of him is Uncle Freeman.”
Mason sized them up, and said, “Your Uncle Freeman looks like an opinionated cuss.”
“He is,” she said. “When he once gets an idea in his head, you can’t blast it out with dynamite.”
“We’ll let Judge Treadwell do a little blasting,” Mason said.
“Jason’s just as bad,” she said, “only he’s more clever. He’s a mealy-mouthed hypocrite who always tried to make Uncle Alden feel he loved him — taking him for auto rides and all that... There’s Harold Leeds, Freeman’s boy — the one walking on tiptoe. He does everything that way around home. When he can break away, he’d like to be a real sport; but he doesn’t stand much chance. Freeman keeps him under his thumb, won’t let him have a car, doesn’t approve of...”
She broke off as the bailiff suddenly pounded the courtroom to its feet. The door from chambers opened, and Judge Treadwell, walking with slow dignity, marched up the three carpeted stairs to the platform at the end of the courtroom and took his seat behind the mahogany “bench.” The bailiff mechanically intoned the formula which announced that court was in session, and, a moment later, Judge Treadwell looked down at Perry Mason, and said, “I’d like to ask a few questions of the applicant.”
Mason, on his feet, nodded toward Phyllis Leeds.
“Stand up and be sworn, Miss Leeds,” he said. “... walk right up to that desk. Did Your Honor wish to have counsel examine the witness?”
“No,” Judge Treadwell said. “The court will ask the questions. How old are you, Miss Leeds?”
“Twenty-three,” she answered in a voice high-pitched from nervousness.
“And your uncle is living with you?”
“Yes — that is, he was. I keep house for him, and keep his books.”
“Now, I’d like to know something about the family,” Judge Treadwell said in a conversational voice. “Your uncle, I take it, is not married.”
“No, Your Honor. He’s always been a bachelor.”
“Tell me about the family.”
“There’s Uncle Freeman, a younger brother of Uncle Alden, his son, Harold, and Jason Carrel.”
“Jason is the son of a sister?” Judge Treadwell asked.
“Yes, Your Honor. She’s dead. She was the youngest in the family — that is, of the sisters.”
Judge Treadwell asked kindly, “How do you get along with your uncle, Miss Leeds?”
“Very well,” she said, “but anyone would get along with him. He never loses his temper, is kind, courteous, and considerate.”
“And how about the other members of the family?” Judge Treadwell asked. “How do they...”
Opposing counsel was on his feet. “Your Honor,” he said, “I dislike very much to object to the court’s question.”
Judge Treadwell turned to him. “Don’t do it then,” he said.
“I feel that in the interests of my client I must.”
“You’re representing Freeman Leeds?”
“Yes, Your Honor, Freeman Leeds, Harold Leeds, and Jason Carrel.”
“What’s the ground of your objection?”
“That this is simply an application for a writ of habeas corpus. The petition alleges on information and belief that Alden Leeds is being detained against his will. I propose to show that such is not the case. The man is in the custody of loving relatives, under medical care which is an urgent necessity.”
“You’ll have your opportunity,” Judge Treadwell said, calmly. “Right at the present time, the court is trying to find out something about the family affairs and the general situation of the parties.”
“I understand, Your Honor, and that’s what I object to. I claim that is incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial and not a part of this hearing.”
“Objection overruled,” Judge Treadwell said, and then, as the lawyer remained on his feet, observed mildly, “If you have any other objections to make, make them, and the court will rule. If you have none, sit down.”
The lawyer sat down.
Judge Treadwell turned to Phyllis Leeds. “How about the other members of the family?” he asked. “How do they get along with your uncle?”
“Same objection,” opposing counsel snapped.
“Same ruling,” Judge Treadwell said calmly.
“Why, they get along with Uncle all right — that is, they did until — until Uncle Alden — I hardly know how to express it.”
“Made outside friends?” Judge Treadwell asked.
She nodded her head vigorously.
“I think that’s all,” Judge Treadwell observed. “I notice that the petition alleges that Alden Leeds was taken for an automobile ride by Jason Carrel, and failed to return. I think I’ll ask a few questions of Mr. Carrel. Come forward please.”
Jason Carrel, a thin young man in the thirties with high cheekbones, close-set eyes, and a mop of coal black hair which grew low on his forehead, came forward and was sworn.
“From reading the return to the writ,” Judge Treadwell said, when Carrel had stated his name, age, and residence to the clerk, “I understand you took your uncle for an automobile ride.”