“Didn’t give him the names of my clients, did you?”
“No. Certainly not.”
“Tell him I’ll be right out,” Mason said.
He hung up the telephone and excused himself to his clients. “Sergeant Holcomb of the Homicide Squad is outside,” he said. “He wants to see me at once. I won’t be long. Excuse me, please,” and went out to the reception office, carefully closing the door of his private office behind him.
Sergeant Holcomb said, “Let’s go some place where we can talk.”
“The law library is available,” Mason said, opening the door to the long room with its shelves lined with books.
The officer nodded to the young man who was with him, and said, “All right, Mattern. Come along.”
Mason shifted his eyes to make a quick appraisal of the young man. He was somewhere in the late twenties with a head which seemed too large for his body. The bulging, prominent forehead and slightly protruding eyes gave him an appearance of owlish intellectuality which was emphasized by large, dark-rimmed spectacles.
Mason led the way into the law library and closed the door. “What is it, Sergeant?” he asked.
Sergeant Holcomb jerked his head toward the narrow-shouldered young man. “Carl Mattern,” he said, “Tidings’ secretary.”