Perry Mason studied the white-haired woman with that interest which new clients always aroused. She returned the lawyer’s gaze with bright gray eyes in which a hard glitter gradually softened to a twinkle. “No,” she said, “I haven’t killed anyone—not yet, I haven’t. But don’t think I’m a peaceful old lady who sits by the fire and knits, because I’m not. I’m a hard-bitten old hellion.”
