Do you mind telling the jury where it runs — from where to where?”
And Clyde, nervous and fearful and physically very much reduced, now replied:
“Well, it runs from Grass Lake to Three Mile Bay.”
“And to what or near what other places in between?” continued Mason, looking over his shoulder.
“Gun Lodge.
That’s all.”
“What about Big Bittern?
Doesn’t it run near that when it gets to the south of it?”
“Yes, sir, it does here.”
“Ever notice or study that map before you went to Grass Lake from Utica?” persisted Mason, tensely and, forcefully.
“No, sir — I did not.”
“Never knew the road was on there?”
“Well, I may have seen it,” replied Clyde, “but if so I didn’t pay any attention to it.”
“And, of course, by no possible chance could you have seen or studied this folder and that road before you left Utica?”
“No, sir.
I never saw it before.”
“I see.
You’re absolutely positive as to that?”
“Yes, sir. I am.”
“Well then, explain to me, or to this jury, if you can, and under your solemn oath which you respect so much, how it comes that this particular folder chances to be marked,
‘Compliments of the Lycurgus House, Lycurgus, N. Y.’” And here he folded the folder and presenting the back, showed Clyde the thin red stamp in between the other red lettering.
And Clyde, noting it, gazed as one in a trance.
His ultra-pale face now blanched gray again, his long thin fingers opened and shut, the red and swollen and weary lids of his eyes blinked and blinked to break the strain of the damning fact before him.
“I don’t know,” he said, a little weakly, after a time.
“It must have been in the Renfrew House rack.”
“Oh, must it?
And if I bring two witnesses here to swear that on July third — three days before you left Lycurgus for Fonda — you were seen by them to enter the Lycurgus House and take four or five folders from the rack there, will you still say that it ‘musta been in the rack at the Renfrew House’ on July sixth?”
As he said this, Mason paused and looked triumphantly about as much as to say: There, answer that if you can! and Clyde, shaken and stiff and breathless for the time being was compelled to wait at least fifteen seconds before he was able sufficiently to control his nerves and voice in order to reply:
“Well, it musta been.
I didn’t get it in Lycurgus.”
“Very good.
But in the meantime we’ll just let these gentlemen here look at this,” and he now turned the folder over to the foreman of the jury, who in turn passed it to the juryman next to him, and so on, the while a distinct whisper and buzz passed over the entire courtroom.
And when they had concluded — and much to the surprise of the audience, which was expecting more and more attacks and exposures, almost without cessation — Mason turned and explained:
“That’s all.”
And at once many of the spectators in the room beginning to whisper:
“Trapped!
Trapped!”
And Justice Oberwaltzer at once announcing that because of the lateness of the hour, and in the face of a number of additional witnesses for the defense, as well as a few in rebuttal for the prosecution, he would prefer it if the work for the day ended here.
And both Belknap and Mason gladly agreeing.
And Clyde — the doors of the courtroom being stoutly locked until he should be in his cell across the way — being descended upon by Kraut and Sissel and by them led through and down the very door and stairs which for days he had been looking at and pondering about.
And once he was gone, Belknap and Jephson looking at each other but not saying anything until once more safely locked in their own office, when Belknap began with: “ . . . not carried off with enough of an air.
The best possible defense but not enough courage.
It just isn’t in him, that’s all.”
And Jephson, flinging himself heavily into a chair, his overcoat and hat still on, and saying:
“No, that’s the real trouble, no doubt.
It musta been that he really did kill her.
But I suppose we can’t give up the ship now.
He did almost better than I expected, at that.”
And Belknap adding: “Well, I’ll do my final best and damnedest in my summing up, and that’s all I can do.”
And Jephson replying, a little wearily: