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Mason stood facing Oxman, feet spread apart, shoulders squared, eyes studying the slender man with a cold scorn. Abruptly he pulled the IOU's from his pocket, tore them into pieces and stepped into the bathroom. A moment later he returned and said, "Okay, Oxman, we'll forget that about the forgeries and figure your IOU's are genuine."
Oxman's face showed sudden relief. "That's better," he said. "I thought you'd be sensible. Now, what do you want?"
"Nothing," Mason told him. "You may have walked down the corridor to those offices and seen Sylvia bending over the desk. You may have seen the original IOU's on the desk. I don't know. If you did, you'll never dare to admit it, because that would brand your story about paying seventy-five hundred dollars to Grieb as a lie."
"What are you getting at?" Oxman asked.
"Simply this," Mason said, gri
"Now then, you've admitted in writing that you saw Grieb after you went aboard the ship. You claim that you purchased the IOU's from him. You have those IOU's in your possession. You've allowed the newspapers to take photographs of them. And you returned from that gambling ship with the same amount of cash with which you boarded it-nine thousand five hundred dollars. Now then, according to your story, you must have been the last person to see Grieb alive! You received seven thousand five hundred dollars in IOU's from him and you didn't pay him any money.
"The question arises, how did you get them? The answer is you had a fight with Grieb, shot him through the head and took the IOU's. In case it's of any interest to you, Mr. Frank Oxman, your wife will go before the Federal Grand Jury, look at those IOU's and unhesitatingly and absolutely identify them as the original IOU's which she gave Sam Grieb. That'll cost her seventy-five hundred dollars in cash, but having you hung for murder will be worth it."
Mason strode to the door and threw back the bolt. He turned on the threshold to look at Frank Oxman.
Oxman's face showed startled consternation. "My God, Mason. You can't do that. Sylvia can't. You wouldn't…"
Mason stepped out into the hallway, pulled the door half shut behind him, gri
Mason slammed the door, walked down the corridor to the stairway, descended two floors, and tapped on the door of Sylvia Oxman's room. He heard the rustle of motion on the other side of the door, but no sound of the door being opened.
"Okay, Sylvia," Mason said in a low voice, "open up."
She opened the door and stared at him with anxious, apprehensive eyes.
"You can quit worrying about your husband," Mason a
"Why, what did you do?"
"Put him on the defensive," Mason told her grimly. "My best guess is he'll take a run-out powder."
"Tell me what you did."
"Made him the last man to see Grieb alive," the lawyer said. "That lying written statement really puts him in a jam. Now it's up to him to squirm out. By the way, Sylvia, he's here in the hotel."
She recoiled. "He's where?"
"Here in the hotel, upstairs, in five-nineteen. How did you happen to come here?"
"Why… why, we came here once when we were dodging some people we didn't want to see. We didn't want to be home, and… Oh, I should have known he'd come here, if I stopped to think of it. This hotel is his hide-out… You didn't tell him I was here?"
"No, of course not."
"Do you think he knows?"
"I don't know. He may have seen you in the lobby. Do any of the bellboys know who you are?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Well," Mason told her, "you'd better sit tight. Keep your door locked and if anyone knocks, don't answer unless you know who it is."
She sat down on the edge of the bed as though her knees had lost their strength. "I don't want to stay here," she said. "I want to get out."
"No, Sylvia, that's the worst thing you could do. Remember, the officers are looking for you. You don't dare register now at any hotel. I think Frank will be leaving here within an hour."
She looked down at the carpet, then suddenly raised her eyes to his and said, "Mr. Mason, why are you doing this for me?"
"I want to see that you get a square deal," he told her.
"Why?"
"Oh, you're sort of a half-way client of mine," he said, making his voice casual.
"You said something like that once before. Now I want to know why." As he said nothing, but remained silent, she went on, "I saw you and another man aboard the gambling ship the other night when I went out to talk with Grieb about those notes. It impressed me at the time that there was something queer about the way everyone acted when I showed up. Now I realize what it must have been."
"What?" Mason asked her.
"You'd been out there trying to get those IOU's," she said. "And… and it must have been Grandmother Benson who retained you."
"What makes you think that?" Mason asked.
"You're just asking me questions," she charged, "so you won't have to answer mine. Now listen, Mr. Mason, I'm going to tell you something: if she went out there expecting trouble, she'd have carried a gun. I think you should know that. She's carried a gun for ten years, and lots of people know about that habit. They josh her about it. So don't be surprised if…"
"What kind of gun," he interrupted, "automatic or revolver?"
"I don't know… It may have been an automatic."
"All right," the lawyer told her, "I'll watch out for that gun business. Now then, there's a thousand to one chance your husband came to this hotel because he knows you're here. You keep your door locked. No matter what happens, don't open that door unless I'm on the other side of it. In the meantime, if you want me, you can ring me at Vermont eight-seven-six-nine-two. That's my secret hideout. Don't call me unless it's some major emergency, and don't tell anyone that number under any circumstances. Do you understand?"
She nodded.
"Can you remember the number?"
She took a pencil from her purse and started to write. Mason said, "Don't write it down that way. Write it eighty-seven V six, nine, two. Then anyone who finds it will think it's an automobile license number."
She wrote down the number as he directed, then came to stand at his side, her hand on his arm. "I can never in the world thank you enough for what you're doing," she said.
He patted the back of her hand. "Don't try."
"Tell me, is there a chance they'll convict Frank of this murder?"
"Lots of chance," Mason told her, "- if there ever was any murder."
"What makes you say that?"
"I have a witness who thinks Grieb committed suicide."
She shook her head slowly and said, "Sam Grieb would never have done that. He was killed."
"Well, it might suit us to let the authorities think it was suicide."
She said slowly, "Don't let them bear down too heavy on Grandmother Benson… She… keep their minds on Frank Oxman if you can."
"You don't care what happens to Frank?" he asked.
"No, I don't owe him anything. And anyway, you're Grandma Benson's lawyer. You mustn't let them pin anything on her."
"Now wait a minute," the lawyer told her significantly. "If I'm representing an i