“Do you have two of these?” Mason asked. “I’d like to have my secretary assist me.”
“You don’t wish to remove them from the office?”
“No.”
She walked down the counter a few feet, took out another file, and handed it to Della Street.
“What do we look for?” Della Street asked.
“We may not find it,” he said, “but I rather think we will. A small paragraph somewhere on an inside page, an account of a Mr. Luceman who was cleaning a revolver when it accidentally dropped and exploded. It will probably be written in a somewhat humorous vein. Dr. L. O. Sawdey will have been called in to give emergency treatment.”
Della Street, for the moment, did not look at the newspaper. Instead she looked at Mason, comprehension dawning on her face. “Then you mean that...?”
Mason interrupted her. “Once more I am not risking my reputation as a prophet. Let’s get the facts first, and make deductions afterwards.”
Mason plunged at once into the pages of the paper, but it was Della Street who found the notice first. “Here it is,” she said.
Mason moved over to look over her shoulder.