She broke off as Paul Drake knocked his peculiar code sequence on the door. Mason strode over to open it. Drake walked in and said, “Our friend Chennery believes in direct methods, Perry.”
“What happened?” Mason asked.
Drake said, “About five minutes after we left Chennery’s place, Chennery came out, walked over to the roadster where my operative was sitting and said. ‘Your lawyer friend told me I was being shadowed, and you look like the shadow.’ ”
“Then what?” Mason asked.
“My operative doesn’t remember,” Drake said, grinning. “He says a building fell on him, but he’s probably exaggerating. About ten minutes later, when the extra men I’d telephoned for showed up, they found this bird tied up in the bottom of the car, with adhesive tape pasted over his eyes and lips.”
“Chennery?” Mason asked.
“Gone,” Drake said. “Slipped through our fingers. But we’re tailing his wife, and she’ll lead us to him sooner or later.”
“She didn’t get away?”
“No. Chennery beat up my operative and skipped out. She waited to pack up, and must have left about ten or fifteen minutes after he did. My men showed up just as she was pulling out.”
“Where is she now?” Mason asked.