“Address?” Mason asked.
“Uh-huh. 209 East Ranchester. ”
“So then what?” Mason asked.
Drake said, “Thought I’d drop in for instructions. Think I’d better let him make a delivery?”
“Yes,” Mason said, “and tail the man who makes it. Try and pick up Conway and put a tail on him. Find out who Serle is.”
Drake said, “Okay, Perry. Of course, this delivery guy will probably be a rat-faced punk who thinks he’s a big shot because he’s peddling phoney dice, but he may lead to something. I’ll...”
He broke off as Mason’s telephone shrilled into sound.
Mason said, “All right, Paul, be seeing you. Keep me posted,” and picked up the receiver. The girl at the switchboard said, “Miss Leeds on the line, says it’s a matter of the greatest importance.”
Mason said, “Put her on,” then, cupping his hand over the mouthpiece, said to Drake, who was halfway to the exit door, “Stick around a minute, Paul. This is the Leeds girl calling now... Yes, hello... Yes, this is Mr. Mason, Miss Leeds.”
Phyllis Leeds was so excited that her voice was high-pitched. “Mr. Mason,” she said, “the most terrible thing has happened.”