“At ten o’clock exactly.”
“Cross-examine,” Kittering flung triumphantly at Perry Mason.
Mason said, in a tone of voice which was that of an ordinary, informal conversation, “You felt that Alden Leeds had given the officers the tip which resulted in a police raid on your place of business?”
“I figured that was possible.”
“And Milicant — or Hogarty, whichever he was — also figured that way?”
“Well, he admitted it was possible. We knew Leeds would be gunning for Conway, trying to get him out of the way — only Leeds didn’t know Conway and Milicant were the same, and he hadn’t recognized Milicant as Hogarty. He thought Hogarty was dead. Hogarty said he was going to get Leeds in and tell him he was Conway.”
“Did you have any trouble getting Milicant to agree to come to your rescue?”
“None whatever. He recognized that it wasn’t fair to make me the goat in his business.”
“Did your troubles affect your appetite?” Mason asked.
“My appetite?”