“Thank you,” Mason said. “That’s all.”

Judge Jordan was interested. “These lines appear in the lips only when the lips are puckered, as in giving a kiss?”

“No, Your Honor, they are in the lips all the time, as an examination will show, but when the lips are puckered, the lines are intensified.”

“And these lip markings are different with each individual?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“So that you are now prepared to state to the Court that despite the fingerprints of the defendant on the glass and other objects, her lips definitely could not have left the imprint on the dead man’s forehead?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“That’s all,” Judge Jordan said.

“Of course,” Linn pointed out, “the fact that the defendant did not leave that kiss imprint on the man’s forehead doesn’t necessarily mean a thing, Your Honor. In fact, he may have met his death because the defendant found that lipstick on his forehead. The evidence of the fingerprints is quite conclusive that the defendant was in that apartment.”

“The Court understands the evidence. Proceed with your case,” Judge Jordan said.

“Furthermore,” Linn went on angrily, “I will now show the Court that there was every possibility the print of that lipstick could have been deliberately planted by none other than the attorney for the defendant and his charming and very efficient secretary. I will proceed to prove that by calling Don B. Ralston to the stand.”

Ralston came forward and took the stand, his manner that of a man who wishes he were many miles away.

“Your name is Don B. Ralston? You reside at 2935 Creelmore Avenue in this city?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you knew Carver L. Clements in his lifetime?”

“Yes.”

“In a business way?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, on the night—or, rather, early in the morning—of the 10th of this month, did you have occasion to go to Carver Clements’s apartment, being Apartment Number 702 in the Mandrake Arms Apartments in this city?”

“I did, yes, sir.”

“What time was it?”

“Around—well, it was between one and two in the morning—I would say around one thirty.”

“Were you alone?”

“No, sir.”

“Who was with you?”

“Richard P. Nolin, who is a business associate—or was a business associate—of Mr. Clements; Manley L. Ogden, who handled some of Mr. Clements’s income tax work; and a Miss Vera Payson, a friend of—well, a friend of all of us.”

“What happened when you went to that apartment?”

“Well, we left the elevator on the seventh floor, and as we were walking down the corridor, I noticed two people coming down the corridor toward us.”

“Now, when you say ‘down the corridor,’ do you mean from the direction of Apartment 702?”

“That’s right, yes, sir.”

“And who were these people?”

“Mr. Perry Mason and his secretary, Miss Street.”

“And did you actually enter the apartment of Carver Clements?”

“I did not.”

“Why not?”