“All right,” Mason said, “now that you see where the wire is cut in, I’ll show you where it runs to,” and he led the way over to where he could point out the unpainted cabin, concealed in the trees.
Sergeant Holcomb asked suspiciously, “How did you happen to notice that wire, Mason?”
“I was feeding a bluejay,” Mason said. “He took a peanut from my hand, then hopped up in that tree and sat on the limb which carries the wire.”
“I see,” Holcomb observed in a tone which showed his complete and utter disbelief, “and you just happened to see the wire while you were standing under the tree staring up at the bluejay to whom you’d just given a peanut. Is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“You wanted to see how he’d digest the peanut, I suppose?”
“No, I had another peanut I was going to give him,” Mason said patiently. “I wanted him to come down and take it out of my hand.”
Sergeant Holcomb said to Sheriff Barnes, “I don’t know what his game is, but if Perry Mason is walking down the road feeding peanuts to bluejays, you can gamble there’s something back of it. He knew darn well that wire was there, all the time. Otherwise, he’d never have found it.”
Sheriff Barnes stared moodily at the cabin. “Keep away,” he said, as though entirely oblivious of their conversation. “I’m going into that cabin. Sergeant, if any shooting starts, I leave it to you to back me up.”
Quietly, calmly, he approached the door of the cabin, pounded with peremptory knuckles, then lowering his shoulder, smashed his weight against the door. At his third lunge the door gave way and shot backward on its hinges. Sheriff Barnes stepped into the half darkness of the interior to find that Perry Mason was right on his heels, while Sergeant Holcomb was behind Mason, holding his gun in readiness.