“On the contrary,” Mason said, “I’m very much inclined to co-operate. Having gone that far, I presume you gentlemen have noticed that the caged parrot on the screen porch of Helen Monteith’s little bungalow is Casanova, the parrot owned by Fremont C. Sabin, and that the parrot which was found in the mountain cabin is a parrot which Sabin had recently purchased from the Fifth Avenue Pet Shop in San Molinas?”
Sheriff Barnes’ eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed. “You’re giving us the straight goods on that?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” Mason said.
“He’s drawing a red herring across the trail,” Sergeant Holcomb said disgustedly.
“If you knew all of that,” Raymond Sprague said, “and then hid Helen Monteith where we couldn’t question her, I think I will charge you with being an accessory.”
“Go ahead,” Mason invited. “As I remember the law, you’ll have to charge that I concealed a principal in a felony case, with the intent that such principal might avoid or escape from arrest, trial, conviction or punishment, having knowledge that said principal had committed such felony, or had been charged with such felony. Now then, as I gather it, to date Helen Monteith hasn’t been charged with the commission of any felony.”
“No, she hasn’t,” Barnes admitted.
“And I don’t think she has committed any felony,” Mason said.
“Well, I do,” Sprague told him.
“A mere difference of opinion,” Mason observed; and then turned once more to Sheriff Barnes. “It may interest you to know, Sheriff,” he said, “that the parrot in the cage on Helen Monteith’s porch keeps saying, ‘Put down that gun, Helen... don’t shoot... My God, you’ve shot me.’ ”