“I think I know now what happened, but I haven’t enough truth to forge a sufficiently powerful weapon with which to fight… However, let’s quit worrying about it right now. I think things are going to work out. Let’s go see Adelle Hastings.”
They found Adelle Hastings at her apartment. Beyond a certain hardness of facial expression, there was no sign of emotion.
Mason, studying her with shrewd, appraising eyes, noticed that hard, frozen mask behind which she concealed her feelings.
Mason said, “Miss Street, my secretary, Miss Hastings.”
Adelle Hastings acknowledged the introduction with a polite cordiality which gave everything that formality demanded, but went not a step beyond.
“Won’t you come in?” she asked.
Mason said, “I hardly expected to find you here. I understood you were working.”
“I’m not working today,” she said, and offered no other explanation. “Won’t you sit down?”
When they were seated, she suddenly turned to Perry Mason. For a moment the mask dropped from her face. Her eyes were glittering. “Why,” she asked, “did you send that telegram?”
“Because I wanted the information,” Mason said.