“But he’s a sick man,” Mason insisted.
“He hasn’t a physician’s certificate to prove it,” the coroner pointed out. “If he was too sick to attend, he could have had his physician certify to that fact.”
“Well, it’s very evident he’s ill,” Mason said. “Look at the man’s bandaged countenance. He certainly wouldn’t go around with his face swathed like that unless he was ill — here, I have a suggestion. There’s a doctor sitting right next to him. Let Dr. Wallace make an examination of the infected area and give a certificate. I don’t think a man in that condition should be a witness.”
Dr. Wallace looked questioningly at the coroner. The coroner stared steadily at Perry Mason. Then Scanlon said, “Very well, Doctor, you make an examination.”
Dr. Wallace reached over, deftly tore off a strip of adhesive tape, took one end of the bandage in his fingers, and started to untwist it.
Weyman swung his left fist. The blow caught Dr. Wallace full on the jaw, snapping his head back. But the doctor’s fingers still held the end of the bandage.
Weyman started climbing over the back of the seat. The coroner yelled, “Stop that man!” and someone grabbed his legs. Weyman kicked out desperately. Dr. Wallace, recovering himself somewhat, grabbed at the collar of the man’s coat with his left hand. His right pulled at the bandage. Suddenly, the entire bandage slid from Weyman’s face, to lump around his neck, and Dr. Wallace, staring at the man’s features, jumped back to stare with wide, startled eyes. “Good God!” he exclaimed.
“ That’s the dead man!”
Pandemonium broke loose in the crowded room.
Perry Mason turned to Rodney Cuff, made a little deprecatory gesture and said, “And there, Counselor, is your murder case!”