"Yes."
"You act as though you didn't think it was what he really wanted."
"I don't."
"Why?"
"Because I don't think the District Attorney would consider a plea of manslaughter. I think he'd prosecute either for first degree murder, or not at all."
"Then what did Blackman want?" Crinston demanded.
"I think he wanted to find out what our reactions would be to a proposition of that kind. If we'd been willing to go ahead, he'd have taken as much money as he could get, and then blackmailed us for as much more as possible, and then doublecrossed us at the time of trial."
Crinston studied his cigar thoughtfully.
"He didn't impress me as being that kind of a man," he said slowly. "Not from the impression he made over the telephone, anyway."
"If you'd seen him, he'd have made a better impression," Mason told him.
Crinston put the cigar back in his mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully.
"Look here," he said suddenly, placing his parted fingers to his mouth, and jerking out the chewed cigar, "I don't like the way you're handling this case."
"No?" asked Perry Mason coldly.
"No!" said Crinston explosively.
"And what don't you like about it?" asked the lawyer.
"I think you're letting a golden opportunity slip through your fingers. I think there's a good chance to get this thing all cleaned up by playing ball with Blackman."
Mason's answer was curt and without explanation.
"I don't," he said.
"Well I do, and I'm giving you orders right now to get in touch with Blackman and give him what he wants. Anything within reason."
"He doesn't want things within reason," Mason said. "His type never does. He'd find out what we consider reasonable, and then raise his sights."
"All right. Let him raise them. There's a hell of a lot of money involved in this thing, and we can't afford to bungle it."
"Are you afraid," asked Perry Mason, "that Frances Celane can't stand too much pressure?"
"That's a great question to ask me!" Crinston almost shouted. "When you've had to let her have a nervous breakdown in order to keep her out of the hands of the police."
"I didn't say that I did it to keep her from the police," Mason reminded him.
"Well, I said it," said Crinston.
"Yes," Mason told him, "I heard you, and furthermore, you don't need to shout."
Crinston got to his feet, flung the half smoked cigar into the cuspidor, and glowered at Mason.
"All right," he said, "you're finished."
"What do you mean I'm finished?"
"Just what I say. You're not representing me anymore, and you're not going to represent Frances Celane anymore."
"I think," Mason told him slowly, "that Miss Celane will be the best judge of that. I'll wait until she tells me that I'm not to represent her anymore."
"She'll tell you fast enough, as soon as I get in touch with her."
"Where," asked Mason, smiling thoughtfully, "are you going to get in touch with her?"
"Don't worry," Crinston told him, "I'll get in touch with her all right, and then you're going to be finished. You're a bungler. You've been smart enough on some things, but you've let the case get into a hell of a mess. I'm going to get some attorney, and…"
Abruptly, Perry Mason got to his feet. He strode purposefully around the desk. Crinston watched him come with eyes that remained steady, but seemed to hold just a trace of panic. Mason planted himself firmly in front of the other man, his eyes cold, hard, and ominous.
"All right," he said, "let's not have any misunderstanding about this. From now on I'm not representing you, is that right?"
"You bet that's right!"
"And don't think," said Mason, "that your business is so damned important. Miss Celane would have let me handle the estate if it hadn't been for the fact that I couldn't place myself in the position of acting as attorney both for the estate, and for the surviving partner."
"Well," Crinston told him, "you don't need to worry about that anymore. On the other hand, don't think you're going to represent the estate. You aren't going to represent anything or anybody. I'm going to get another attorney to represent me, and he's going to represent Frances Celane, as well."
Perry Mason said, slowly, ominously: "Just to show you what a fool you are, and how you've walked into a trap, the man that you're going to get to represent you is one that was suggested to you by Blackman."
"What if he is?" Crinston demanded.
Mason's smile was frosty.
"Nothing," he said. "Go right ahead. Walk into the trap just as deeply as you want to."
Crinston's eyes softened somewhat.
"Look here, Mason," he said, "I've got nothing against you personally, but this is a business matter. I think you're bungling things, and I think you're too damned ethical. I don't want you to misunderstand me. Frances Celane means a lot to me. I'm just like an uncle to her. She's a kid that I've taken a lot of interest in, and I'm going to see that she gets a square deal. I think that this case requires someone who can deal with Blackman. He says he wouldn't deal with you anymore if you were the last man left on earth."
Perry Mason laughed a bitter, mirthless laugh.
Crinston went on doggedly. "No matter what happens, I'm for Frances Celane. I don't know what the evidence may disclose before it gets done, but I'm going to stick by the kid no matter what happens. Get that, and get it straight. I'm a business man; and she doesn't know a thing about business. I'm going to see that she gets a square deal, beginning immediately."
He turned and walked with ponderous dignity toward the door.
Perry Mason watched him with thoughtful concentration.
"What a sucker you are," as Crinston jerked the door open.
Crinston whirled on him. "I hate that word!" he said. "I don't let anybody call me a sucker."
"You'll hate it a lot worse before you're done," said Mason, and, turning on his heel, walked back to his desk.
Crinston hesitated a moment, then turned and walked back into the room.
"All right, wise guy," he said, "now I'm going to tell you something.
"You've bungled this case from the time you started in on it. I know that I can't fire you as Miss Celane's lawyer. That's something that's entirely up to her. I'm going to advise her to let you go. In the event she doesn't, however, I'm going to give you one tip, and that's watch Purkett, the butler."
"Now," said Perry Mason, "you interest me. Go ahead and tell me what you're driving at."
"Oh," said Crinston sarcastically, "you do want to take a little advice, eh?"
"I want you to tell me why you made that remark about Purkett," said Perry Mason, his eyes cold.
Crinston's eyes surveyed the lawyer in thoughtful appraisal.
"If I told you," he asked, "would you have sense enough to use the information?"
Perry Mason said nothing, but held his head slightly on one side, after the manner of a person anxious to hear that which is about to be said.
"The evidence in this case," said Crinston, "pointed unmistakably to Devoe. A good lawyer would have seen that the police never had a chance to consider the possibility that such evidence wasn't conclusive. However, you sat back and did nothing while the police began to doubt that evidence and make other investigations.
"Then, when that investigation was under way, you did nothing to keep them from involving your client. Now, if Devoe is guilty, that's the end of it. If he isn't guilty, someone else is. There's a stronger probability that that someone else is Purkett than anyone else. Yet you're letting him keep entirely in the background."