“No, I’m not,” she said. “I came here recently because Byrl was here. I’m living at the St. Germaine Hotel.”
Mason said, with elaborate unconcern, “Do you have her address, Mrs. Tump?”
“Why, of course — the Vista Angeles Apartments… She’s going to take a trip with me as soon as we can get matters straightened out. I’m financing her in the meantime. Understand, Mr. Mason, you’ll make all arrangements through me. She’ll be your client, of course, but I’ll be the one who pays the fees, and therefore the one you’ll look to for instructions.”
“Is she,” Mason asked, “listed in the telephone book?”
“Yes.”
Mason said, “Thank you, Mrs. Tump. I’ll see you at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
“And how about this appointment with Mr. Tidings?”
“I’ll get in touch with him,” Mason said, “and explain that I’ve been consulted, that the hour isn’t convenient for me, and ask for a later appointment.”
She gave him her hand. “You give me a real feeling of confidence, Mr. Mason… You’re so different from those other lawyers. I built up a phobia about the legal profession. But Mr. Peltham told me you’d be like this. He seemed to know a great deal about you… You’ve met him personally, perhaps?”
Mason laughed. “I meet so many people — and so many people know me whom I don’t know, that at times it’s embarrassing.”