Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Buried Clock

“That is the approximate amount.”

“And when you refused to hush that up, Hardisty embezzled some ninety thousand dollars in cash, and advised you that if he was going to be short, he would make his embezzlement worth while; that if you kept him from going to jail and made good the ten thousand dollars he would return the ninety thousand dollars?”

“Not in exactly those words.”

“But that was the gist of it?”

“The facts of the matter are, that before the bonding company would issue a bond on Mr. Hardisty, it required certain guarantees. The upshot of the matter was that I virtually agreed with the bonding company that if it would issue the bond, I would indemnify them against any loss.”

“And did you ever recover the ninety thousand dollars?”

“No, sir.”

“Or any part of it?”

“No, sir.”

“That is all.”

There was no cross-examination.

“I will now call another hostile witness,” McNair said. “Adele Blane.”

Adele Blane, plainly nervous, took the witness stand, was duly sworn, gave her name and address, and looked somewhat apprehensively at the vigorous young trial deputy who seemed to have that peculiar quality of focusing the attention of the entire courtroom upon himself.

“You are familiar with the location of the mountain cabin owned by your father, and in which the body of Jack Hardisty was found on October second, Miss Blane?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you were at the cabin on the afternoon of October first?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you see Jack Hardisty there?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What time?”

“I can’t tell you the exact time. It was sometime after four o’clock, and, I think, before four-forty-five, perhaps around four-twenty.”

“And that is the best you can do so far as fixing the time is concerned?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you saw Jack Hardisty drive up?”

“Yes, sir.”

“He stopped his car?”

“That’s right.”

“Did you see him take anything from his car?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What?”

“A spade.”

“Could you identify that spade if you saw it again?”

“No, sir.”

“Were you alone at the time?”

“No, sir. A Mr. Raymand was with me.”

“Mr. Harley Raymand?”

“That’s right.”

“And what did you do immediately after seeing Jack Hardisty at the cabin? Just describe your moves, please.”

“Well, I drove back to Kenvale with Mr. Raymand. I took him to the Kenvale Hotel. I—”

“Just a minute,” McNair interrupted. “Aren’t you forgetting something? Didn’t you see the defendant, Mrs. Hardisty, prior to that time?”

“Yes, that’s right. I met her in an automobile.”

“And where was she going?”

“I don’t know.”

“She was, however, driving on the road which led to the mountain cabin?”

“Well, yes.”

“And you had some conversation with her?”

“Yes.”

“You and Mr. Raymand?”

“Yes.”

“And she asked if her husband was up at the cabin?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“And you told her that her husband was up there?”

“Yes.”

“And she promptly started her car and drove away in the direction of the cabin?”

“Well — well, yes.”

“You know she went to the cabin, don’t you, Miss Blane?”

“No, sir. I don’t think she did go to the cabin.”

“You left Mr. Raymand at the hotel, and turned around and speeded up the road to the cabin, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Now, please tell us, Miss Blane, just what you found when you arrived at the cabin — or rather, just before you came to the road which turns off to the cabin.”

“I found my sister.”

“The defendant in this case?”

“Yes.”

“What was she doing?”

“She was standing near an embankment.”

“Did you notice any evidences of emotional upset — any external evidences?”

“She was crying. She was partially hysterical.”

“Did she make any statement to you about a gun?”

Adele Blane looked around her, as though she were actually in a physical trap, instead of merely being on the witness stand under oath to tell the truth, and faced with the probing, searching questions of a vigorous prosecutor.

“Did she say anything about a gun?” McNair repeated.

“She said she had thrown her gun away.”

“What were her exact words? Did she say she had thrown it down the canyon, on the brink of which she was standing?”

“No. She said she had thrown it — I can’t remember.”

“Did she say why?”

Adele looked appealingly at Perry Mason, but Mason sat silent. It was not the silence of defeat, but rather the silence of dignity. His eyes were steady. His face might have been carved from stone. His manner was confident. But, where the ordinary lawyer would have been throwing objections into the record, would have been storming and ranting, fighting for time, seeking to keep out damaging evidence, Mason was merely silent.

“Yes,” Adele Blane said. “She told me why.”

“What did she say?”

“She said that she was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“She didn’t say.”

“Afraid of herself?”

“She didn’t say.”

“Obviously,” McNair said to the witness, “if she had been afraid of her husband, she would have kept the gun. Throwing it away means only that she was afraid of herself. Isn’t that the way you understood her, Miss Blane?”

Mason came to his feet then, quietly, confidently. “Your Honor,” he said, “I object to the question. It is argumentative. It is an attempt on the part of counsel to cross-examine his own witness. It calls for a conclusion of the witness. I have made no effort to prevent the facts from getting before the jury. Nor have I objected to the leading questions asked of this witness. But I do object to argumentative, improper questions such as these.”

McNair started to argue, but Judge Canfield gestured him into silence. “The objection,” he said, “is sustained. The question is clearly improper.”

McNair pounced back on the witness, resuming his attack with a redoubled fury, convincing jurors and spectators, as well as the witness, that here was a man who could not be stopped, who was only stimulated by rebuffs to fight harder.

“What did your sister do after that?”

“She got in her car.”

“Where was her car?”

“It was parked a short distance up the road.”

“You mean by that it was parked on the main highway?”

“Yes.”

“It was not parked on the side road which led up to your father’s cabin.”

“No.”

“And then what did she do?”

“Followed me back to town.”

“At your suggestion?”

“Yes.”

“And then what happened?”

“When I got to Kenvale, I missed her.”

“You mean that she deliberately avoided you?”

“I don’t know. I only know that she didn’t follow me to the house.”

“And what did you do? Where did you go?”

“I went to Roxbury.”

“Yes,” McNair said, somewhat sneeringly, “you went to Roxbury. You went directly to the home of the defendant, Dr. Jefferson Macon. You asked for the doctor, and were advised he was out on a call. Isn’t that right?”

“That is substantially correct.”

“And you waited for Dr. Macon to return, did you not?”

“Yes.”

“And when did he return?”

“At approximately ten-thirty.”

“And what did you say to the defendant, Dr. Macon?”

“I asked him if he had seen my sister.”

“And what did he say?”

“Just a moment,” Judge Canfield said. “The jury will be instructed that at this particular time, any statement testified to by this witness as having been made by Dr. Macon will be received in evidence only as against the defendant, Macon, as a declaration made by him. It will not be binding upon the defendant, Hardisty, or be received as evidence against her. Proceed, Miss Blane, to answer the question.”