Judge Canfield said, “The Court has already ruled on the motion permitting Mr. Mason to put on the evidence at this time, and out of order. The Court will reserve a ruling on the objection that it is incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial until the defendant presents his case. Or, to put the matter in another way, the Court will admit the evidence temporarily, subject to a motion on the part of the prosecution to strike it out in the event it is not properly connected up.”
“That,” Mason announced, “is all I ask, Your Honor.”
Harley Raymand unwrapped the package, took out a small wooden box. He opened this box and disclosed an alarm clock ticking competently away.
Mason made some show of taking out his watch and comparing it with the dial of the clock, then he turned to consult the electric clock at the back of the courtroom. “May we call to the attention of the jury at this time, that the clock is apparently two hours, forty-four minutes and forty seconds fast.”
Judge Canfield said, his voice showing the interest he was taking, “It will be so noted for the record.”
McNair, plainly irritated that the smooth progress of his case had been interrupted, said, “Your Honor, I would like to reserve my cross-examination of this witness until after the Court has finally ruled whether the evidence is admissible.”
“So ordered,” Judge Canfield said. “Has any test of this clock been made for fingerprints, Mr. Mason?”
Mason said suavely, “Apparently not, Your Honor. I would like very much to have the Court instruct the fingerprint expert from the sheriff’s office to make proper tests.”
“That will be the order,” Judge Canfield said. “Now, Mr. McNair, do you wish to proceed with your case?”
“Yes,” McNair said truculently. “Now that we have disposed of the horoscopes and the astrology, we might get down to brass tacks. I will call Mr. William N. Jameson as my next witness.”
Jameson, duly sworn, testified to finding the body of Hardisty in the cabin. Testified also to matters of technical routine, identifying maps, photographs, and presenting all the groundwork necessary in murder cases.
Gradually, however, having disposed of these details, McNair once more started building to a dramatic climax. “Did you,” McNair asked, “on the second day of October of this year, have occasion to go to Roxbury with me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And where did you go when you arrived in Roxbury?”
“To the place where the defendant, Dr. Macon, has his office and residence.”
“Did you see Dr. Macon at that time?”
“I did.”
“Who else was present?”
“You and Dr. Macon, that’s all.”
“And, following that interview, did you have occasion to examine Dr. Macon’s automobile?”
“I did.”
“Who was present at that time?”
“No one. You were talking with Dr. Macon. I slipped out and went through his car.”
“What did you find, if anything?”
“Dr. Macon’s surgical bag was in the back of the automobile. I looked through it. In a little leather medicine case which held a lot of small bottles, I found a bottle which seemed to be filled with cotton. I took out the cork and pulled out the cotton. Concealed in the cotton was a piece of paper.”
McNair looked at the clock. “Any writing on this piece of paper?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Would you recognize this piece of paper if you saw it again?”
“Yes, sir.”
McNair said, with a smile, “I am offering the paper at this time for identification. Tomorrow, I will introduce handwriting experts to show that the writing on the paper is in the handwriting of the defendant, Milicent Hardisty. In the meantime, purely for the purposes of identification, I wish to read into the record the message which is upon this paper.”
“No objection,” Mason said, as Judge Canfield regarded him with a puzzled frown.
McNair read:
“Dearest Jeff:
Jack has done the most awful thing. I couldn’t believe him capable of such perfidy, such dastardly treachery. He is up at the cabin. I am going up there for a show-down. If the worst comes to the worst, you won’t see me again. Don’t think too badly of me. I can’t see why men like him are permitted to live...
There is no use my trying to tell you how much you have meant to me, Jeff, or what you have done for me. No matter what happens, I will feel that I am always close to you and that you will be close to me.
I am hoping that I can get Jack to see the light, and right, at least in part, the great wrong he’s done my father. For what he has done to me, I do not care. I can stand that. It will be humiliating, but I can take it. But I can’t take what he has done to Father, lying down. As this may be good-bye, I want you to know how very, very much you have meant to me. Your kind patience, your steady faith, your friendship, and the more which lay behind all this have been inspiration and sustenance to me. Goodbye, my dear.
Yours,
McNair handed the paper to the clerk of the court with a flourish. “Please mark this for identification,” he said, “as the prosecution’s exhibit.”
McNair turned to Perry Mason, glancing triumphantly at the clock, to note that once more the papers would have an opportunity to record a dramatic finish to the afternoon session.
“Is that all of your direct examination of this witness?” Judge Canfield asked.
“Yes, Your Honor. It is approximately four forty-five, and—”
Judge Canfield ignored the hint. “Cross-examine,” he said to Mason.
For a moment there was a flash of consternation on McNair’s face. It was quite apparent he had hoped Judge Canfield would adjourn court, and there was a sympathetic glint in the eyes of His Honor as he glanced at Perry Mason.
Mason faced the witness.
“You worked up this case, Mr. Jameson?” he asked.
“What do you mean by that?”
“You endeavored to uncover evidence in it?”
“Yes.”
“You did everything possible to unearth significant facts which might be considered as clues?”
“Yes.”
“Did you look down in that canyon to see if you could find the weapon which the defendant, Milicent Hardisty, is said to have thrown down there?”
Jameson smiled. “That was hardly necessary.”
“And why not?” Mason asked.
“Because her gun was found — where she had tried to hide it after the murder.”
“I see,” Mason said. “Therefore, it wasn’t necessary to look for a gun she might have thrown down into the canyon.”
“That’s right.”
“In other words, having found Mrs. Hardisty’s gun, there was no use searching for any other.”
“That’s right.”
“You knew Mrs. Hardisty told her sister she had tossed her gun over an embankment?”
“She claimed that,” Jameson grinned.
“And as an officer looking up facts in the case, you checked that statement by looking in the place she had indicated?”
“No, by looking in the place she actually hid the murder gun.”
“You don’t know it was the murder gun?”
“Well... of course — it was the gun she must have used.”
“And you are willing to swear there is no gun lying on the steep slope where Mrs. Hardisty told her sister she had thrown a gun?”
“I couldn’t swear that, but I’d bet a million dollars on it.”
Judge Canfield said sternly, “The witness will answer questions and refrain from extraneous comments.”
Mason smiled. “You don’t know this is the gun that killed Hardisty. You don’t know Mrs. Hardisty put the gun where it was found, and, as an officer, you have never checked Mrs. Hardisty’s story that she had thrown the gun which was in her purse down that steep slope. Is that right?”