The Case of the Howling Dog

The dog marched from the office, pacing along at her side, matching step for step with his mistress, his plume elevated, waving proudly in the air.

When the door of the outer office closed, Della Street stared at Perry Mason with sudden consternation.

"But," she said, "the only real argument that you had to convince the jury that Bessie Forbes was not the one who did the shooting was that the dog sprang at her. If Clinton Forbes had substituted dogs…"

Her voice trailed away into silence.

"I have repeatedly told you," said Perry Mason, "that I am not a judge; nor am I a jury. On the other hand, I have never heard the story of Bessie Forbes; nor has any one else. It may have been that anything she did was done in selfdefense. I feel certain that it was. She had to defend herself against a dog and a man. But I acted only as her lawyer."

"But," said Della Street, "they'll get her and try her all over again."

Perry Mason smiled and shook his head.

"Oh, no, they won't," he said. "That's why I wouldn't let them dismiss the case. A dismissal wouldn't have been a bar to another prosecution. Now she has faced a jury and has been once in jeopardy. She can never be tried again for that offense, as long as she lives, regardless of what other evidence might be uncovered."

"You," said Della Street, staring at him, "are a cross between a saint and a devil."

"All men are," said Perry Mason, unperturbed.