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she think a man's going to do? Work hard all day wrestling building problems, putting across deals, and then come home to some frosty – faced reception committee of one that starts finding fault before he's got the door closed?"
    "I have told you repeatedly," Mason said, "that I don't care to discuss the case with you. And just so there won't be any misunderstanding, I suggest that you leave the office now. Use that exit door to the corridor." Mason got to his feet.
    "Okay," Carson said, "throw me out. I thought I could drop in and have a friendly little chat with you and perhaps Morley and I could get things all straightened out."
    "If you want to talk with Morley Eden there's no law that prevents you from doing so," Mason said.
    "Oh, to hell with both of you," Carson said, pushing his way toward the door. "You go your way and I'll go mine."
    Carson pulled the door back with a jerk.
    "Good morning, Mr. Carson," Mason said in a loud voice.
    "And a good morning to you, Mr. Mason," Carson shouted. "I tried to cooperate with you and didn't get anywhere. Now, when you want to find me, you can hunt me up."
    Carson swung his broad shoulders out through the door and pounded his way down the corridor.
    Paul Drake, apparently on his way to the men's room, barely glanced at the irate figure.
    "A delightful personality," Della Street said as the door closed. "Imagine being married to that."
    "He probably has his good points," Mason said thoughtfully, "but he likes to throw his weight around and when people aren't impressed he becomes rather objectionable. When the initial fascination of marriage fades, two people can get on each other's nerves mighty fast."
    "He's so darned assertive and domineering," Della Street said. "He-"
    She broke off as a buzzer sounded. "That probably means the typing department has the complaint ready in the case of Eden versus Carson."
    Mason said, "When Morley Eden comes in to sign the verification, Della, see that it is notarized. I'm going to try and do one good turn."
    "What?"
    "I'm going to make whatever amends are possible to a woman who seems to have been caught in a cross fire."
    "You mean Nadine Palmer?" she asked.
    Mason nodded.
    "She may not welcome you or any suggestions from you."
    "She may not," Mason said, "but at least I'm going to tell her what the score is."
    Mason looked at his watch. "As soon as this action is filed there'll be a furor of publicity. Tell Mr. Eden to answer all inquiries from reporters by stating that he will have open house for a press conference at one o'clock and photographers can take whatever pictures they want. Tell him I'll be at his place as near one as I can make it, and to wait for me. Tell him to be sure not to unlock the front door or to let anyone in until I arrive. Then he can give all the newspaper reporters a simultaneous story and I'll see that he doesn't give any wrong answers."
    Della Street, her pencil flying over the page other notebook, looked up and nodded.
    "All right," Mason said, "I'll sign the complaint as attorney for the plaintiff. Right after Eden signs it and it's notarized, send it down to the courthouse and file it."
    Della Street said, "May I make one secretarial observation?"
    "Shoot, Della."
    "You need a haircut, Chief. If you're going to have your picture taken at a press conference, and if you're going calling on a good – looking divorcee, you should have-"
    "Go no further," Mason said. "I'll go get my hair cut right now, and have a manicure to boot."
    "I didn't mention the manicure," she said.
    "I know," he told her. "That was my own idea."

Chapter Five
    THE WOMAN who opened the door a scant half inch in response to the chimes was unusually tall, graceful and gave the appearance of being completely self – reliant. She was holding a robe tightly across her chest.
    "Yes?" she asked inquiringly, looking at Mason with frankly appraising eyes.
    "I'm Perry Mason, the attorney," Mason said. "I-"
    "Oh," she interrupted, "I knew I'd either