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this," Della Street went on, speaking hurriedly. "I didn't intend to disturb you over that newspaper business. I clipped the item out of the paper and figured it would keep until morning, but I was getting ready for bed and turned the radio on to get the evening broadcast. A news item came through that early this evening police investigated a parked automobile which had been found in a vacant lot, discovered that there were bloodstains on the seat cushion. A man's bloodstained topcoat was found pushed down on the floor boards near the gearshift lever. There was a bullet hole in the left side of the coat. The car was registered in the name of Albert Tidings, and a handkerchief in the right – hand pocket of the raincoat had Albert Tidings' laundry mark and some lipstick on it. A check – up shows that Tidings hasn't been seen since shortly before noon, when his secretary said he went out without saying where he was going."
    Mason digested the information and said, "Now that's something. Any other clues?"
    "Apparently that's all that found its way to the last minute news flashes… Want me to call up Paul Drake and start him working on it?"
    Mason said, "I'd better call him myself, Della."
    "Look like the plot's thickening?" she asked.
    "Positively curdled," he agreed, cheerfully. "It's like Thousand Island dressing… Almost as bad as the cream gravy I tried to make on that hunting trip last fall."
    "Can I do anything to help, Chief?"
    "I don't think so, Della. I don't think I'll do very much. After all, we'll be hearing from Mrs. Tump on this, and in one way this will simplify matters."
    "Sounds more complicated to me," she said.
    "No. It'll work the other way. With the charges made in connection with the trust fund of the Elmer Hastings Memorial Hospital, a court would want a pretty thorough accounting from Tidings on the Gailord trust. Tidings won't dare to let us drag him into court on that now. He'll make all sorts of concessions-that is, if he wasn't inside of that coat when the bullet went through. If he was, and should pass out of the picture, we'll then be in a position to have another trustee appointed and get an accounting from Tidings' administrator… What worries me is the lipstick on the handkerchief in his coat pocket."
    "Getting narrow – minded, Chief?" she asked banteringly.
    "I was just wondering if the girl who owned that lipstick didn't perhaps have part of a ten – thousand – dollar bill in her purse… I'm getting a complex about that bill, Della. I'm afraid to go to sleep for fear I'll dream of chasing a witch who turns herself into a beautiful young woman poking a part of a ten – thousand – dollar bill under my nose."
    Della Street said, "More apt to be a beautiful young woman who turns into a witch… Let me know if you want anything, Chief."
    "I will. Thanks for calling, Della. 'Night."
    "'Night, Chief."
    Mason rang up the Drake Detective Agency. "Paul Drake-is he where you can reach him?" he asked of the night operator at Drake's switchboard.
    "I think so, yes."
    "This is Perry Mason calling. I'm at my apartment. Tell him to give me a ring soon as he can. It's important."
    "Okay, Mr. Mason. I should have him within fifteen minutes."
    Mason slipped out of bed, put on bathrobe and slippers, lit a cigarette, and stood in frowning concentration, his feet spread apart, his eyes staring intently down at the carpet. From time to time he raised the cigarette to his lips, inhaling slow deliberate drags.
    The ringing of the telephone aroused him from his concentration. He picked up the instrument, and Paul Drake's drawling voice said, "Hello, Perry. I was wondering whether to call you tonight or wait until tomorrow morning. I've got some information on Tidings."
    "What is it?" Mason asked.
    "Oh, a bit of this and that," Drake said. "A bit of background, some gossip, and a little deduction."
    "Let's have the high lights."
    Drake said, "He's married. Been married twice. The first time to a Marjorie