“Under those circumstances there’s only one thing to do.”
“What’s that?”
Mason grinned. “Trust to cross-examination.”
Drake said, “I think you’d better try to cop a plea, Perry. I don’t think the district attorney will let you. He’s been laying for you for a long time, and this time he thinks he has you where he wants you. But you might manage a plea.”
Mason said, “I don’t think I could get a plea. I wouldn’t even try, unless Milicent Hardisty confessed to me that she was guilty and asked me to... What have you found out about the sliver of spectacle lens, Paul?”
Drake’s face showed a surprise. “Why,” he said, “I thought the D. A.’s office had that all sewed up.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’ve checked that piece of lens Harley Raymand gave them, and it matches up absolutely with Jack Hardisty’s prescription.”
“And how about the piece you have?”
“Why, it’ll be the same of course.”
“You mean you haven’t had it tested?”
“No.”
Mason said, “Have it tested.”
“But, Perry, it’ll be the same.”
“How do you know it will?”
Drake thought the question over for a second or two, then grinned and said, “I’m just acting on the assumption that it will, I guess, Perry.”
Mason nodded. “Have it checked, Paul.”
Chapter 20
The selection of the jury in the case of The People of the State of California vs. Milicent Blane and Jefferson Macon consumed a day and a half. At two o’clock in the afternoon of the second day, the jurors, having been sworn to try the case, settled back comfortably in their seats and looked expectantly at the district attorney.
Thomas L. McNair, the new, brilliant trial deputy, walked over to stand in front of the jurors to make his opening statement.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I will make no detailed statement of what we intend to prove. I shall let the evidence itself speak for the prosecution. I have long thought that it was presumptuous for a district attorney to tell intelligent men and women what the evidence means, or what he expects it to mean. I shall, therefore, merely content myself with showing that on the first day of October, of the present year, the defendants murdered Jack Hardisty, the husband of the defendant, Milicent Hardisty. I shall leave you, ladies and gentlemen, to deduce what happened. I will call as my first witness, Frank L. Wimblie, from the coroner’s office.”
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?”