But later, when because of the silence of the newspapers everywhere in regard to her true name, it became plain that she was not to be featured, he permitted himself to talk more freely about her.
But now here on the stand, he grew once more nervous and reticent.
“Well, you see, it’s hard to say.
She was very beautiful to me. Much more so than Roberta — but not only that, she was different from any one I had ever known — more independent — and everybody paid so much attention to what she did and what she said.
She seemed to know more than any one else I ever knew.
Then she dressed awfully well, and was very rich and in society and her name and pictures were always in the paper.
I used to read about her every day when I didn’t see her, and that seemed to keep her before me a lot.
She was daring, too —-not so simple or trusting as Miss Alden was — and at first it was hard for me to believe that she was becoming so interested in me.
It got so that I couldn’t think of any one or anything else, and I didn’t want Roberta any more.
I just couldn’t, with Miss X always before me.”
“Well, it looks to me as if you might have been in love, or hypnotized at that,” insinuated Jephson at the conclusion of this statement, the tail of his right eye upon the jury.
“If that isn’t a picture of pretty much all gone, I guess I don’t know one when I see it.”
But with the audience and the jury as stony-faced as before, as he could see.
But immediately thereafter the swift and troubled waters of the alleged plot which was the stern trail to which all this was leading.
“Well, now, Clyde, from there on, just what happened?
Tell us now, as near as you can recall.
Don’t shade it or try to make yourself look any better or any worse.
She is dead, and you may be, eventually, if these twelve gentlemen here finally so decide.” (And at this an icy chill seemed to permeate the entire courtroom as well as Clyde.) “But the truth for the peace of your own soul is the best,”— and here Jephson thought of Mason — let him counteract that if he can.
“Yes, sir,” said Clyde, simply.
“Well, then, after she got in trouble and you couldn’t help her, then what?
What was it you did?
How did you act? . . .
By the way, one moment — what was your salary at that time?”
“Twenty-five dollars a week,” confessed Clyde.
“No other source of income?”
“I didn’t quite hear.”
“Was there any other source from which you were obtaining any money at that time in any way?”
“No, sir.”
“And how much was your room?”
“Seven dollars a week.”
“And your board?”
“Oh, from five to six.”
“Any other expenses?”
“Yes, sir — my clothes and laundry.”
“You had to stand your share of whatever social doings were on foot, didn’t you?”
“Objected to as leading!” called Mason.
“Objection sustained,” replied Justice Oberwaltzer.
“Any other expenses that you can think of?”
“Well, there were carfares and trainfares.
And then I had to share in whatever social expenses there were.”
“Exactly!” cried Mason, with great irritation.
“I wish you would quit leading this parrot here.”
“I wish the honorable district attorney would mind his own business!” snorted Jephson — as much for Clyde’s benefit as for his own.
He wished to break down his fear of Mason.
“I’m examining this defendant, and as for parrots we’ve seen quite a number of them around here in the last few weeks, and coached to the throat like school-boys.”
“That’s a malicious lie!” shouted Mason.
“I object and demand an apology.”
“The apology is to me and to this defendant, if your Honor pleases, and will be exacted quickly if your Honor will only adjourn this court for a few minutes,” and then stepping directly in front of Mason, he added: “And I will be able to obtain it without any judicial aid.”
Whereupon Mason, thinking he was about to be attacked, squared off, the while assistants and deputy sheriffs, and stenographers and writers, and the clerk of the court himself, gathered round and seized the two lawyers while Justice Oberwaltzer pounded violently on his desk with his gavel:
“Gentlemen!