“That’s nice.”
“I want in.’
“You said you did.”
Mason sized the officer up. “Tell Sergeant Holcomb I’m here.”
The officer said, “Nope. I ain’t paid for telling anybody anything. I’m here to guard the door.”
Abruptly Mason raised his knuckles and knocked on the door. The officer frowned and jerked Mason’s arm down. “Now, who told you you could do that?” he asked.
Mason’s voice was conciliatory. “Forget it. You’re here to keep anyone from coming in without a pass. That doesn’t mean I can’t knock...”
A man opened the door, glowered at Mason and said, “What?”
Mason raised his voice. “I’m Perry Mason, Mrs. Breel’s lawyer. I want to see my client.”
Mason heard Mrs. Breel say, “Come in, Mr. Mason,” and, at the same time, the man in the doorway and the uniformed officer on guard converged on him, pushing him back into the corridor. The man who had opened the door pulled it shut behind him and said to the guard, “We told you there were to be no visitors.”