“Wouldn’t it make him legally responsible for it though — if he engineered the burglary?” Della Street asked.
“It would,” Mason agreed, a slight twinkle in his eyes, “on one condition.”
“What’s the condition?”
“That they can prove it on him.”
Della said, “You’ve just about done that by cold, remorseless logic.”
“I have, but that doesn’t mean Tragg’s going to. He may overlook that angle entirely.”
“Bosh! He pretends to be just dawdling along, and then— Wham!”
Mason abruptly walked over to the hat closet. “Be sure to get that can and the sealing machine, Della. Take that vase down to Paul Drake’s office. I’m going out to get a shave, a face massage, a manicure, and a quart of coffee.”
“I will,” Della Street said, then added, “and don’t you let that Sunley girl mix any more sex, simpers, and sweetness to kid you along.”
“You could have added pseudo-sincerity,” Mason grinned. “That also is alliterative.”