“And because you adopted their suggestions as to the questions that were to be answered you wrote them down?”
“In a way.”
“There you are,” Mason said. “This question that you have now asked me may have been thought up by the district attorney of Los Angeles County purely in an attempt to elaborate on some theory of the case that he has. And he may construe my answer in the most technical manner possible.”
“But your client isn’t charged with the murder of William Delano, her uncle. She’s charged with the murder of Hortense Paxton.”
“And that alleged murder enabled her to get most of the estate of William Delano?”
“That’s my understanding of the situation.”
“And the body of William Delano hasn’t been exhumed?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because his was a natural death.”
“How do you know?”
“The man was dying. He had been dying for months.”
“Is a dying man immune to poison?”
“Are you trying to insinuate that your client poisoned William Delano?”
“Good heavens, no,” Mason said. “I know she didn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know she didn’t poison anyone.”
“She poisoned Hortense Paxton,” Halder said, “and she may have poisoned Edward Davenport.”
“Oh, come, come,” Mason said. “You’re making a flat accusation.”
“Well, I have information, Mr. Mason, which supports that accusation.”
“Information which I don’t have?”
“Certainly.”
Mason said, “That, of course, complicates the situation again.”
Halder said with exasperation, “I’m asking you simple questions and you go playing ring-around-a-rosy.”
“It’s not ring-around-a-rosy,” Mason said. “I’m asking you to put yourself in my place. Would you answer questions involving the title to property?”
“I can’t put myself in your place. I can’t advise you. I have my own problems to worry about.”
“Exactly,” Mason said. “So, since I can’t rely on your advice, since you’re afraid to take the responsibility—”
“Who’s afraid?” Halder demanded.
“Why, you are,” Mason said.
“I’m not afraid of anything,” Halder said, his face flushing, “and I’m not certain I like your attitude.”
“Come, come,” Mason said affably. “Let’s not let the difference in our official positions enter into our personal relations, Counselor. I merely commented that you in your position were afraid to take the responsibility of advising me—”
“I’m not afraid to take the responsibility.”
“Are you willing to advise me, then?”
“Certainly not. It’s not my place to advise you. I’m representing the people of the State of California. I’m representing this county. You’re representing a client. You’ll have to decide what your own responsibilities are.”
Mason said, “Of course, Counselor, it seems to me that by that answer you’re evading the question.”
“I’m evading the question?” Halder shouted.
“Precisely,” Mason said. “You won’t answer definitely whether or not in my position as an attorney representing Myrna Davenport I should answer your questions.”
“I’m not in a position to advise you on anything.”
“Well,” Mason said, his face suddenly breaking into a smile as though he had a complete solution, “will you then assure me that if I go ahead and discuss questions of title with you my answers will not at any time be binding upon my client in regard to such matters?”
Halder hesitated and said, “Why, I think—I don’t see how they could.”
“But will you definitely assure me?” Mason asked. “Will you take the responsibility? Will you guarantee it?”
“Certainly not.”
“There you are,” Mason said.
The lawyer settled back in his chair and smoked thoughtfully as though making a good-faith attempt at finding some way out of the impasse.
Halder glanced at the sheriff, then at his deputy. Abruptly he said. “Mr. Mason, will you and Miss Street pardon us for a few minutes? You wait right here. I want to confer with my associates. Will you, Sheriff, and you, Oscar, mind stepping in this other office with me?”
The three scraped back their chairs, crowded through the door into the second office.
Della Street turned to Perry Mason. “Well,” she said, “you seem to—”
Mason placed a warning finger to his lips and rolled his eyes around the room, then interrupted to say, “I seem to be in a devil of a fix, don’t I, Della? I’d like to be fair with Mr. Halder and I’d like to be frank. But for the life of me I don’t see how I can overlook the fact that I’m in a position of responsibility as far as my client is concerned. Now you take that question of title and it could become very complicated.”
“Yes,” Della Street said, “even with these few preliminary questions I can see that it’s going to be complicated, and the district attorney has a list of several typewritten pages.”
“Well,” Mason said, “Of course I want to co-operate with him, Della, but we have other things to do. We can’t stay here indefinitely. I do hope he’ll expedite matters.”
Della Street smiled.
Mason winked at her. “Care for a cigarette, Della?”
“No, Chief, thank you.”
Mason settled back to smoking. After a moment, he said, “I do hope they won’t take too much time with their conference. After all, Della, we’re holding a chartered plane here and I have very definite responsibilities back in my own office.”
After a moment, Mason again winked at Della Street and said, “That’s right, Della. Put your head back and try and get some sleep. After all, you’ve had quite a siege of it, being up all last night.”
“Did I have my eyes closed?” Della Street asked innocently.
“Yes,” Mason said. “If you can doze off by all means do so.”
And Mason, with a finger on his lips, gestured for silence.
“Well, thanks,” Della Street said, yawning audibly.
There was an interval of several minutes during which there was complete silence in the room. Della Street held her head against the back of the chair, her eyes closed. Mason smoked thoughtfully, from time to time holding his cigarette out in front of him, studying the eddying smoke.
At length the door from the other room opened. The three men filed back into the room. They were followed by a fourth.
Mason looked at the man and said, “Well, well, Sidney Boom. How are you, Mr. Boom? It’s good to see you again.”
He got up and shook hands.
Boom smiled. “How are you, Mr. Mason? How do you do, Miss Street?”
Della Street gave the officer her hand. “Nice to see you again.”
“Thank you.”
Chairs scraped once more.
Halder seemed to have decided upon a new line of attack. He turned to question Boom.
“You’re an officer up at Paradise?”
“Yes.”
“A deputy, working out of the sheriff’s office here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you were such a deputy last night?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now were you called to the residence of Ed Davenport last night?”
“That’s the place out on Crestview Drive?”
“Don’t ask me where it is. I asked you a question.”
“Well, I’m not sure who owns the house except—yes, I am, too. The woman told me.”
“What woman?” Mason asked.