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you want someone to drive you to Santa Barbara, Mr. Mason," he said, "I've got a Rolls Royce out in front that will make the trip in less than two hours from here. It's done it before."
    Mason said slowly, "I don't want to go myself. I've a clerk up there I can trust. I want to send him a good stenographer so he can prepare some pleadings if it becomes necessary. I also want someone who knows Doris Kent, to keep watch on her residence and let me know if she either comes in or goes out. Then I'll arrange to have detectives called in. The person who knows her can put the finger on her, and the professional detectives can carry on from there."
    "I know her," Harris said. "Edna introduced me to her a month ago." He turned to Edna Hammer and said, "Come on up, Edna, it would be a nice lark."
    Edna Hammer hesitated, glanced at Helen Warrington; and Peter Kent, interpreting that glance, said, "Go ahead, both of you girls go up. I won't be needing Helen for anything. She's had experience as a legal stenographer, and she can be available if anything breaks."
    Mason nodded brief thanks. "That's taken care of then," he said. He went to the telephone, called his office and said to Della Street, "Prepare an affidavit for final judgment of divorce in the Kent case. The interlocutory decree of divorce was granted in Santa Barbara a year ago, on the thirteenth. You'll have to leave the number and page of the judgment book blank until we can get the data. It was entered on the same day it was made."
    "I already have that," she said calmly. "I have the affidavit all prepared and the final decree of divorce ready for the judge's signature."
    "Been reading my mind again, eh?" he asked.
    "You'd be surprised," she told him. "Do you come after the affidavit or do I bring it over?"
    "Where's Paul Drake? Is he there?"
    "No, he went out. He's been in and out all evening."
    "Has he found out anything new?"
    "I don't think so."
    "Get a cab," Mason told her, "and come on out."
    By the time Mason hung up the telephone, Helen Warrington, on an extension telephone which had been plugged into a phone jack back of the bar, had a call through to the airport. "I have a pilot who can furnish a bi-motored, cabin plane," she said, "but he wants to wait until daylight to make the trip. He says he can leave at daylight and have you in Yuma by seven-thirty in the morning."
    Kent looked questioningly at Mason. The lawyer nodded his head. "That's okay," Kent said. "Charter the plane."
    Abruptly he began to shake, his arms, legs and face twitching. He turned his back as though to hide his affliction. Helen Warrington said in a coolly capable voice, "Very well, have the plane ready to start at daylight."
    The butler opened the door, said to Helen Warrington, "Mr. Peasley calling, Miss Warrington."
    Kent abruptly snapped out of his jerking fit. "Look here," he warned, turning to face them, "not a word of this to Bob Peasley."
    "Really," Helen Warrington said, "unless it's imperative that I go…"
    "I want you to," Edna Hammer said petulantly. "After all, you know, it's going to be an all night trip."
    "Tell Peasley," Kent said, "that you're going out on business for me; don't tell him how long you'll be gone or where you're going. Tell him he'll have to excuse you tonight."
    "And don't tell him who you're going with!" Harris laughed. "He'd stick a knife into me."
    Helen Warrington said to the butler, "Show Mr. Peasley in."
    "Well," Harris said, "since I'm going to drive the car, I'll keep sober, but there's no reason on earth why you folks can't have one of the famous Harris K-D-D-O cocktails as a stirrup cup."
    "Yes," Edna Hammer said, "give Bob one. It'll do him good." There was a touch of acid in her tone.
    The door opened. A stoop-shouldered young man of about twenty-five gave a perfunctory, generally inclusive nod, said, "Good evening, everyone," and let his eyes turn at once to Helen Warrington.
    She moved to his side. "Mr. Mason, Mr. Peasley," she said.
    "Perry