“I don’t know,” she said. “He wouldn’t give any name to Gertie, said that he simply must see you, and that he couldn’t wait in the reception room. She told him she’d have to have his name, and he pushed his way past her into the law library and told her to go peddle her papers. Gertie was peeved about it, but she said he seemed to be a rather high-class individual, and she didn’t want to have him thrown out.”
Mason said, “That, Della, will be Robert Peltham.”
He strode across the office, jerked open the door to the law library, and said, “Hello, Peltham. Come in.”
Peltham, who had been seated at the long table, nervously puffing a cigarette, jumped to his feet and walked rapidly across to where Mason was standing. “What the devil,” he asked, “has happened? How could anyone have got my overcoat, my car, and…”
Mason said, “It took you long enough to get here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I had to see you,” Mason said. “I tried to get you in here the easy way. That didn’t work. So I tried the hard way.”
Peltham stared at him. “You mean that you…” His voice trailed away into silence.
Mason said, “This is Della Street, my secretary. I don’t have any secrets from her. Come in and sit down. Why didn’t you let me talk with you?”
“I didn’t think it was wise.”