From the window, Della Street said, “Sergeant Holcomb and an officer are getting out. They’re coming toward the house.”
“Will you promise me?” Mason asked.
“Yes.”
“Remember, your life depends on keeping that promise.”
“But, Mr. Mason, they can’t touch me, regardless of how I went to Reno. I certainly was there by five o’clock Tuesday morning, and the testimony of Albert’s secretary shows that he was alive and well until noon on Tuesday.”
“Did you,” Mason asked, as steps sounded on the porch, “know that Mattern was going to do that?”
“No, of course not. It was just a lucky break for us.”
Mason said, “Well, there’s one thing wrong with that. It isn’t the truth. Any time you go to court relying on something that isn’t the truth, your whole defense may collapse under you. I don’t handle my cases that way. I find out the truth, and build up my defense on a solid foundation… Now then, if you killed him, I want you to tell me.”
“I didn’t kill him.”
The doorbell rang steadily and insistently.