Anita Bonsal knew in a drowsy manner that this was a complicating circumstance that she had not foreseen, and despite the numbing effect of the drug on her senses, managed to make the excuse which was to be her first waking alibi.

“Something happened,” she said thickly. “The chocolate . . . We drank chocolate and it felt like . . . I can’t remember . . . can’t remember . . . I want to go to sleep.”

She let her head swing over on a limp neck and became a dead weight in Louise Marlow’s arms.

Aunt Louise put her back on the bed, snatched up a telephone directory, and thumbed through the pages until she found the name Perry Mason, Attorney.

There was a night number: Westfield 6-5943.

Louise Marlow dialed the number.

The night operator on duty at the switchboard of the Drake Detective Agency, picked up the receiver and said, “Night number of Mr. Perry Mason. Who is this talking, please?”

“This is Louise Marlow talking. I haven’t met Perry Mason but I know his secretary, Della Street. I want you to get in touch with her and tell her that I’m at Keystone 9-7600. I’m in a mess and I want her to call me back here just as quick as she can. . . Yes, that’s right! You tell her it’s Louise Marlow talking and she’ll get busy. I think I may need Mr. Mason before I get done; but I want to talk with Della right now.”

Louise Marlow hung up and waited.

Within less than a minute she heard the phone ring, and Della Street’s voice came over the line as Aunt Louise picked up the receiver.

“Why, Louise Marlow, whatever are you doing in town?”

“I came in to attend the wedding of my niece, Fay Allison,” Aunt Louise said. “Now, listen, Della. I’m at Fay’s apartment. She’s been drugged and I can’t wake her up. Her roommate, Anita Bonsal, has also been drugged. Someone’s tried to poison them!

“I want to get a doctor who’s good, and who can keep his mouth shut. Fay’s getting married tomorrow. Someone’s tried to kill her, and I propose to find out what’s behind it. If anything should get into the newspapers about this, I’ll wring someone’s neck. I’m at the Mandrake Arms, Apartment 604. Rush a doctor up here, and then you’d better get hold of Perry Mason and—”

Della Street said, “I’ll send a good doctor up right away, Mrs. Marlow. You sit tight. I’m getting busy.”

When Aunt Louise answered the buzzer, Della Street said, “Mrs. Marlow, this is Perry Mason. This is ‘Aunt Louise,’ Chief. She’s an old friend from my home town.”

Louise Marlow gave the famous lawyer her hand and a smile. She kissed Della, said, “You haven’t changed a bit, Della. Come on in.”

“What does the doctor say?” Mason asked.