“How do you figure that, Chief?”
“Because Leeds paid twenty thousand, and didn’t get possession of the documents.”
“Where does that put us, Chief?” she asked.
“Right on the end of the limb,” Mason said.
The bedroom door opened. Marcia Whittaker walked directly across to Perry Mason, holding a manila envelope in her hand. When she got within two steps of the lawyer, she slid the manila envelope behind her back, and held it across the curve of her hips.
Mason said sharply, “Don’t be like that!”
“I want to know,” she said, “exactly what I’m going to get.”
“A first-degree murder rap if you don’t watch your step,” he warned.
“You’ll promise me that Alden Leeds will stand back of me, that...”
“I promise you nothing.” Mason said. “I’ve gone too damn far already. Who do you think you are, to stand up there and ask me, will I do this and will I do that? You’re standing on a red-hot spot.” Mason pointed dramatically to the door. “Any minute the law may walk in through that door. If they find those papers on you, it means the gas chamber. And you want to know what I’m going to do for you! For one thing, I’m going to take those papers off your hands. That’s enough — too damn much.”