“He’s friendly with a waitress named Hazel.”
“Oh, I know the man you mean.”
“If he comes in for lunch,” Mason said, “tell him that Perry Mason, the lawyer, wants to see him and point me out to him.”
“Is that all?” she asked.
Mason said, “That’s all.”
She took the two dollars, and said, somewhat dubiously, “Suppose he doesn’t want to see you?”
“Then,” Mason said with a grin, “I’ll see him.”
She smiled and left him.
Not more than ten minutes later, Mason saw a man who answered Serle’s description enter the restaurant, nod to the proprietor, and start for a table. The waitress whom Mason had tipped glided swiftly toward him. Mason, turning his profile, devoted himself to a cigarette. A few seconds later, he turned around — casually.
Guy T. Serle was approaching his table.