Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Buried Clock

Mr. Wimblie, having been duly sworn, testified to routine matters, the finding and identification of the body, the taking of photographs showing the position and condition of the body. He was followed on the stand by Dr. Claude Ritchie, one of the autopsy surgeons.

Dr. Ritchie, having duly qualified, testified that he had examined the body of Jack Hardisty; that death had been caused by hemorrhage and shock produced by a bullet wound which had been fired into the back of the decedent, entering just to the left side of the spine, ranging downward from behind the shoulder blade. The bullet had not been found in the body.

McNair sought to emphasize this point, so that the jury would be certain to get it. Despite the fact that he had, of course, known of this peculiar feature of the case for weeks, he managed to put surprise into his voice. “Did I understand you correctly, Doctor? The fatal bullet was not found in the body?”

“That is right. The bullet was not found.”

“May I ask why?”

“It had been removed.”

“It could not have dropped out?”

“Impossible.”

“And it didn’t go entirely through the body?”

“No, sir. There was no wound of exit.”

McNair glanced significantly at the jury. “Now, Doctor, did you discover any other unusual condition in connection with your examination of that body?”

“I did.”

“What was it?”

“A drug had been administered.”

“Indeed! Can you tell us the nature of that drug?”

“In my opinion it was scopolamine.”

“What is scopolamine, Doctor?”

“It is a drug which remains in the mother-liquors in the preparation of hyoscyamine and atropine from henbane seed, and those of Datura Stramonium.”

“Of what use is scopolamine?”

“Among other things, scopolamine is used to detect, or rather to prevent, falsehoods.”

“Can you explain that, Doctor?”

“Yes. Mixed with morphine, in proper proportions, scopolamine has the power of submerging certain inhibitory areas of the brain, yet at the same time leaving intact the patient’s memory, hearing and powers of speech. In fact, the memory is sharpened beyond the normal conscious memory. Cases are on record in which persons under the influence of scopolamine have confessed to minor traffic crimes which had been completely forgotten during their ordinary everyday existence.”

“And you state that this drug has a tendency to prevent lies?”

“That is right. Henry Morton Robinson cites, in Science versus Crime, experiments performed upon subjects under the influence of scopolamine in which they were urged to tell falsehoods and attempted to do so. They were incapable of falsifying their statements.”

McNair glanced at the jury, then turned once more to the doctor. “What can you tell us, Doctor, about the time of death?”

“The time of death was between seven-thirty and ten o’clock in the evening of October first.”

“Those represent extreme limits, Doctor?”

“Those represent extreme limits, yes, sir. If I were to express it according to the law of averages, I should say that the chances were about one in fifty that the man met his death between seven-thirty and seven-forty-five; that there was about one chance in fifty that he met his death between nine-forty-five and ten o’clock; I would say that there were about thirty chances out of fifty that the man met his death between eight-forty-five and nine o’clock in the evening.”

“From the nature of the wound, was death instantaneous?”

“I would say not. I would say that the patient lived for perhaps five minutes to perhaps an hour. On an average, I would say probably a half hour. I am basing that answer upon the extent of the internal hemorrhage.”

McNair turned to Perry Mason. “You may cross-examine.”

Mason waited until the doctor’s eyes turned to him, then asked, “Could you tell whether the decedent had been killed while he was in bed, or placed in bed after he had been shot?”

Dr. Ritchie said frankly, “I can’t tell — that is, I cannot answer that question positively. You will understand that I am a physician and not a detective. I make certain medical deductions from the state of the body. That is all.”

“I understand, Doctor. By the way, were there any powder burns upon the skin of the decedent?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you examine the decedent’s clothes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you notice whether there was any bullet hole in the coat the decedent had been wearing?”

“Yes, sir. There was such a hole.”

“The coat, then, had evidently been removed after the shot was fired.”

Dr. Ritchie smiled. “As I have stated, Counselor, I am not a detective. That inference is for the jury, not for me.”

McNair’s smile was almost a triumphant leer.

Mason nodded. “You are also a professional gambler, Doctor?”

Dr. Ritchie’s smirk was lost in indignation. “Certainly not! That is an unwarranted question.”

It was Mason’s turn to smile. “Your making up of a list of chances, Doctor, indicated a knowledge not usually possessed by the physician. May I ask if your ‘book’ on the time of death based on the number of chances out of fifty is merely a casual estimate, or founded on mathematical calculations.”

Dr. Ritchie hesitated while he mentally canvassed the possibilities of standing up to a cross-examination on the laws of probability. “An offhand estimate,” he admitted sheepishly.

“And an estimate entirely outside the medical field?”

“Only in a manner of speaking.”

“You have never had any experience in making book or determining the mathematical laws of chance?”

“Well... no.”

“So you made an offhand estimate which is probably erroneous?”

“Well, it was a guess.”

“So you were willing to make a guess, and swear to it as a fact?”

“Well, it was an estimate.”

Mason bowed. “Thank you very much, Doctor. That is all.”

Judge Canfield, somewhat by way of explanation, said to the jury, “Mr. Perry Mason is representing the defendant, Milicent Hardisty. Dr. Jefferson Macon is acting as his own counsel. I will, therefore, ask Dr. Macon if he has any questions on cross-examination.”

“Yes,” Dr. Macon said. “How did you determine the presence of scopolamine?”

“I relied principally upon the bromine test of Wormley, although I used both Gerrard’s test and Wasicky’s test.”

“And it is your contention,” Dr. Mason asked indignantly, “that I administered scopolamine to this person in order to make him talk and answer questions before he was murdered?”

Dr. Ritchie turned slightly toward the jury to deliver his answer. “That, Doctor,” he said, “is your own suggestion. I am drawing no inferences. I am merely testifying to the facts that I found.”

Dr. Macon muttered, “That’s all.”

“My next witness,” McNair announced, “will necessarily be a hostile witness. I dislike to call him, but there is no alternative. I will call Vincent P. Blane, the father of the defendant, Milicent Hardisty.”

Blane took the stand. His face showed plainly the effects of worry, but he was still very much master of himself, poised, courteous, dignified.

“Mr. Blane,” McNair said, “because of your relationship to one of the defendants, it’s going to be necessary for me to ask you leading questions.”

Blane inclined his head in a courteous gesture of understanding.

“You knew that your son-in-law, Jack Hardisty, had embezzled money from the Roxbury Bank?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There had been two embezzlements, I believe?”

“Yes, sir.”

“One of ten thousand dollars?”