Drake noticed Mason regarding the car and said, 'The only kind of a car for a detective to have. Common enough so it doesn't attract attention, dependable enough so it'll go anywhere, and if a man wants to crowd someone into a curb, one more dent in the fenders doesn't mean anything.'
Mason grinned and said, 'I don't suppose we give this baby a buzz, do we, Paul?'
'Not a chance. We don't give her an opportunity to set the stage. We come down on her like a thousand bricks. Let's buzz a couple of other tenants.' He selected a couple of apartments at random and rang the bells until an electric buzzing announced the releasing of the door catch. Pushing open the door, Drake held it for the lawyer, and the two men started climbing the stairs. They found Apartment 328 and listened for a moment in front of the door. Sounds of rapid and purposeful motion reached their ears.
'Packing up,' Drake said.
Mason nodded and tapped gently with the tips of his fingers on the panels. A woman's voice on the other side of the door, sounding thin and frightened, said, 'Who is it?'
Mason said, 'Special delivery.'
'Shove it under the door, please.'
'There's two cents due on it,' Mason remarked.
'Just a moment,' the voice said, and steps receded from the door, only to return a moment later as someone made a futile attempt to push two copper pennies through the bottom of the door.
'Go ahead and open the door,' Mason said. 'I'm a mailman. What the hell do I care!' The lock clicked back. The door opened a crack. Mason pushed the toe of his shoe through the door. The young woman gave a little scream and tried to push it closed. Mason opened the door easily and said, 'No need to get excited, Janice. We want to talk with you.' He noticed the suitcase on the bed, the trunk, which had been dragged from the closet into the center of the floor the pile of wearing apparel on the bed and said, 'Going places, were you?'
'Who are you and what do you mean by getting in here this way? Where's the special delivery letter?'
Mason indicated a chair and said, 'Sit down, Paul, and be comfortable.' The detective seated himself, and Mason sat down on the edge of the bed. The girl stared at them from frantic blue eyes. Her hair was the color of spun copper, and she had the smooth complexion which usually goes with such hair. She was slender, well-formed, athletic, and very frightened.
'You might as well sit down, too,' Mason told her.
'Who are you? What do you mean by coming in here this way?'
'We want to find out about Bishop Mallory.'
'I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know any Bishop Mallory.'
'You were over at the Regal Hotel,' Mason said.
'I was not!' she blazed, with every evidence of righteous indignation.
'You went up to Mallory's room. The house detective spotted you in the lobby and saw you give the bishop the high-sign when he came in. We may be able to help you, sister, but not unless you come clean.'
'You can understand,' Drake added, 'what a spot you're in. As nearly as we can find out, you were the last person to see the bishop alive.'
She thrust her clenched fist against her teeth, pressing until the skin around the knuckles grew white. Her eyes were dark with terror. 'Alive,' she exclaimed. 'He's not dead?'
'What do you think?' Drake asked.
Abruptly she sat down and started to cry. Mason, his eye tender with sympathy, glanced across at Paul Drake and shook a warning head. 'Not too thick,' he said.
Drake remarked impatiently, 'If you don't get them on the run, you can't chase them around. Leave it to me.' He got to his feet, placed a palm on the girl's forehead, pushed the head back and pulled her handkerchief from her eyes. 'Did you kill him?' he asked.
'No!' she cried. 'I tell you I don't know him. I don't know what you're talking about, and besides he isn't dead.'
Mason said. 'Let me handle this for a minute, Paul. No, listen, Janice, it happens that several people were watching Bishop Mallory. I'm not going to tell you who they were nor why they were watching him, but he was shadowed when he entered his hotel. You were seated in the lobby and gave him a high-sign. He motioned for you to wait a little and then come up to his room. You gave him four or five minutes, then went up in the elevator. After a little while you came down, and you were plenty excited. All of that time you were being shadowed by my men, who are trained to remember people. You don't stand any chance whatever of lying out of it. Now, then, after you left the bishop's place you went to a telephone and telephoned for an ambulance to come and pick up the bishop. That put you in a spot. I'm trying to give you a chance to get out.'
'Who are you?' she asked.
'A friend of Bishop Mallory's.'
'How do I know that?'
'Just at present,' he said, 'you take my word for it.'
'I'd want something more than that.'
'Okay, then, I'm a friend of yours.'
'How do I know that?'
'Because I'm sitting here talking with you instead of telephoning police headquarters.'
'He isn't dead?' she asked.
'No,' Mason said, 'he isn't dead.'
Drake frowned impatiently and said, 'You'll never get anywhere this way, Perry. She's going to lie now.'
The girl whirled to the tall detective and said, 'You shut up! He'll get a lot farther with me than you would.'
Drake said impersonally, 'I know the type, Perry. You've got to keep them on the run. Get them frightened and keep them that way. Try to play square with them and they'll slip out from under.'
She ignored the comment, turned to Perry Mason and said, 'I'll play square with you. I answered an ad in a paper.'
'And met the bishop that way?'
'Yes.'
'What was the ad?'
She hesitated a moment, then tilted her chin and said, 'He advertised for a trained nurse who was dependable and trustworthy.'
'You're a trained nurse?'
'Yes.'
'How many other people answered the ad?'
'I don't know.'
'When did you answer it?'
'Yesterday.'
'Did the bishop give his name and address?'
'No, only a blind box.'
'So you answered the ad. Then what happened?'
'Then the bishop telephoned me and said he liked my letter and wanted a personal interview.'
'When was that?'
'Late last night.'
'So you went to the hotel this morning for that interview?'
'No, I went to the hotel last night, and he hired me.'
'Did he say what for?'
'He said he wanted me to nurse a patient.'
'You're a registered nurse?' Paul Drake interrupted.
'Yes.'
'Show me,' Drake said.
She opened the suitcase, took out a manila envelope, handed it to the detective and immediately turned her eyes back to Mason. She was more sure of herself now, more calmly competent, more wary, and more watchful.
'So Bishop Mallory hired you?' Mason asked.
For a moment her eyes wavered. Then she shook her head and said, 'No.'
'What paper was it in?'
'I can't remember. It was in one of the evening papers a day or two ago. Someone called the ad to my attention.'
'So Bishop Mallory hired you?' Mason asked.
'Yes.'
'Did he say what was wrong with the patient?'
'No, he didn't. I gathered that it was a case of insanity in the family or something of that sort.'
'Why all the packing up?' Paul Drake asked, handing back the manila envelope.
'Because Bishop Mallory told me I'd have to go with him and the patient on a trip.'
'Did he say where?'
'No.'
'And he told you to meet him in the hotel?'
'Yes. And I wasn't to talk with him in the lobby. He was to nod if everything was all right, and I was to go up to his room after five minutes.'
'Why all the mystery?' Drake asked.
'I don't know. He didn't tell me, and I didn't ask him. He was a bishop, so I knew he was all right, and he was paying good wages. Also, you know how some mental cases are. They go wild if they think they're under treatment or even observation.'
'So you went up to the room,' Mason said. 'What did you find?'
'I found things all topsy-turvy. The bishop was lying on the floor. He had a concussion. His pulse was weak but steady. I picked him up and got him to bed. It was a job-an awful job.'
'Did you see anyone in the room?'
