He was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone at Della’s desk. She answered it, saying, “Hold the line a moment, please,” and then, cupping her hand over the mouthpiece, turned to Perry Mason. “Would you be interested in seeing a Mr. Charles Sabin on a matter of the greatest importance? Mr. Sabin says he’s willing to pay any consultation fee.”
Mason said, “Depends on what he wants. If he has a murder case, I’ll listen to him. If he wants me to draw up a chattel mortgage, the answer is ‘no.’ There isn’t enough money in the mint to tempt me to... Wait a minute, Della. What’s his name?”
“Sabin,” she said, “Charles W. Sabin.”
“Where is he?”
“In the outer office.”
Mason said, “Tell him to wait a few minutes. No, wait a minute. Find out if he’s related to Fremont C. Sabin.”
Della asked the question over the telephone, and waited for the girl at the information desk in the outer office to relay the inquiry to the visitor. She turned once more to Mason and said, “Yes, he’s the son of Mr. Fremont C. Sabin.”
“Tell him I’ll see him,” Mason said. “Tell him he’ll have to wait about ten minutes. Go out and meet him, Della. Size him up. Take him into the law library, let him wait there. Bring me the morning newspapers. This, young lady, in case you don’t know it, is a Break with a capital ‘B.’ Okay, get busy... Wait a minute, I have one of the newspapers here.”
Mason made a dive for the newspaper, sweeping the file of important correspondence over to the far end of the desk, as he hurriedly cleared a space in front of him.
The account of the murder of Fremont C. Sabin occupied much of the front page. There were photographs on the second and third pages. There was a human interest story about his character and personality.