“Simply with the initials ‘D.M.’ You’ll have a chance to see the stuff tonight, Perry. She’ll be moving out on that trip to Reno.”
“Do you think she actually intends to go to Reno?”
“Diana Morgan does,” Drake said, grinning, “but Rosa Hendrix will be on the job tomorrow — don’t forget Rosa’s luncheon engagement with Jimmy Driscoll.”
“I won’t,” Mason promised him. “Do you happen to know what time tonight she intends to move the baggage, Paul?”
“ ‘Happen’ is not the word to describe the manner in which I attain my knowledge,” Drake said, twisting his fish-mouth into a droll grin. “It takes elbow-grease, concentration, perspicacity, and perspiration, a rare combination of intuitive—”
“Yes, I know,” Mason interrupted, matching Ms grin. “I’ll find all that in the expense account when I get it. But, please tell me, Mr. Worldly-Wise Man, what time she intends to move the baggage.”
“She told the porter to be up at her apartment at ten-thirty; that a transfer man would be waiting outside the apartment house at that time.”
Mason said, “And do you happen to know, Mr. Human Wonder, whether the transfer man who will move the baggage of Miss Diana Morgan is Mr. Harry Trader of the Trader’s Transfer Company?”
The grin left Paul Drake’s face. His round, slightly protruding eyes showed a flash of surprise back of the glassy film which covered them. He slid around in the chair, got to Ms feet and said, “By God, Perry, I don’t. And I’m going to find out. You hit the nail on the finger with that crack.”
“Let me know as soon as you get the dope,” Mason called out as Drake jerked open the exit door and pounded down the corridor toward the office.