"Now," Perry Mason said, "if tests are being made with that doorbell, it should be removed, properly identified, and introduced in evidence."
John Lucas hesitated a moment. "We will do that," he said, "when we return to court."
He turned to the deputy sheriff. "What's the name of the present tenant of the apartment?" he asked.
"Sidney Otis."
"Slap a subpoena on him," ordered John Lucas in the majestic manner of a king who is accustomed to command and receive implicit obedience. "Bring him into court. And disconnect that doorbell and bring it into court.
"And now," said John Lucas in an undertone, "we'll take the jurors up to Apartment B in the Colemont Apartments, so they can look across into the windows of this upstairs apartment." He turned to the deputy sheriff, stared significantly at him. "You," he said, "can be disconnecting that doorbell while we're up there."
It took two trips of the elevator for the jurors to reach the Crandall apartment, the elevator being packed to capacity both times. When the jurors had all been assembled and had crowded to the windows, which were open, and were staring across the space into the apartment where the murder had been committed, a whirring bell exploded the silence. There was an interval and then the bell rang again, long and insistent.
Perry Mason grabbed John Lucas by the arm, rushed him across to confront Judge Markham, said, out of earshot of the jury, "Your Honor, that is manifestly unfair. There was no stipulation that the doorbell was to be rung while the jurors were assembled here. That's equivalent to the taking of testimony."
John Lucas kept his face innocent and guileless. "This," he said, "comes as very much of a surprise to me. I certainly didn't know that the bell was going to ring. I did instruct a deputy to disconnect the doorbell. Doubtless, in disconnecting it he pressed the button which caused it to ring."
Perry Mason said thoughtfully, "And I noticed you were engaged in a whispered conversation with him when the question was brought up in court as to whether it was possible for a witness to have heard the doorbell ring across the intervening space. And I noticed, further, that you gave the deputy a very significant look just before you left the other apartment house."
"Are you making an accusation?" Lucas flared.
Judge Markham said slowly, "That will do, gentlemen. We'll discuss the matter later. You have raised your voices and it is possible for the jurors to hear what we are discussing."
"I am going to move," Perry Mason said in a low voice, "to have the jury instructed to disregard the ringing of that doorbell."
Lucas laughed, and his laugh was triumphant.
"You might strike it out of the records," he said, "but you'd never strike it out of the minds of the jurors."
Judge Markham frowned at him, stared at Perry Mason, and said in a low voice, "I'm very sorry it occurred, but undoubtedly the deputy district attorney is correct. Having occurred, there's nothing in particular that can be done about it. You can't erase from the minds of the jurors what they have heard."
"I had the right," Perry Mason said, "to use that as a point in my defense, to argue that it was a physical impossibility for the ringing of a doorbell to have been distinctly audible."
Despite his attempt to keep his features politely expressionless, there was a glint of triumph in John Lucas's eyes. "You can, of course," he said, "still argue the point."
Judge Markham shook his head firmly. "Gentlemen," he said, "this discussion will terminate immediately. If there should be any further discussion, it will take place in court."
John Lucas nodded, moved away. Perry Mason hesitated. The doorbell rang once more in the apartment where the murder had been committed, remained ringing for several seconds. John Lucas ran to the window and shouted, "Shut off that doorbell. The jurors weren't supposed to have heard it ring."
One of the jurors snickered audibly. Perry Mason clamped his lips in a firm, straight line. "Of course," Judge Markham said in a low tone of voice, "if you wish to have an investigation, Counselor, of any possible understanding between the deputy and the district attorney's office…"
Perry Mason's laugh was sarcastic. "You know how much I'd find out," he said bitterly.
Judge Markham retained his judicial impassivity of countenance. "Is there any further inspection to be made?" he asked.
John Lucas shook his head.
"No," Perry Mason said curtly.
"We will then," ordered Judge Markham, "return to court. We can probably take some additional testimony before the evening adjournment."
The jurors elected to walk down the stairs rather than ride in the elevator. Waiting cars whisked them back to the courtroom, where they promptly took their places in the jury box. "Proceed," Judge Markham said.
"I will," said John Lucas, "call Ellen Crandall."
Ellen Crandall had dressed with care for the occasion. She moved forward, conscious of the eyes of the crowded courtroom. Her face held a fixed expression, an expression which evidently had been carefully practiced for the occasion. It was as though she wished the spectators to understand her appreciation of the gravity of the occasion, as well as the importance of the testimony she was about to give. Under the questioning of John Lucas, she testified to exactly the same set of facts that her husband had testified to, except that she had, perhaps, been more awake during the time of the struggle. She had heard the sound of the blow more distinctly, and she was positive that she had, following the sound of the blow, heard surreptitious whispers.
The hour for the evening adjournment found John Lucas just completing his direct examination. Perry Mason got to his feet. "After your Honor admonishes the jurors," he said, "I have a matter to take up with Court and counsel which concerns another phase of the case and should probably be discussed in the absence of the jurors."
"Very well," agreed Judge Markham, and, turning to the jury, said, "it appears that the usual hour of evening adjournment has been reached. The Court is not impounding the jury during the trial of this case, but wishes to impress upon you, nevertheless, that you have a responsibility as a part of the machinery of justice. The Court is about to adjourn until ten o'clock tomorrow morning. During that adjournment you will be careful not to discuss this case among yourselves, nor to permit others to discuss it in your presence. You will form or express no opinion concerning the guilt or innocence of the accused. You will refrain from reading any newspaper accounts of the trial, and you will promptly report to the Court any one who seeks to discuss this matter in your presence or any one who makes any advances to you."
The judge's gavel banged upon the marble slab on the top of his bench and the jurors filed from the courtroom.
When the jury had gone, Perry Mason arose and faced Judge Markham. "Your Honor," he said, "Rhoda Montaine has filed suit for divorce against Carl Montaine. In connection with the proper preparation of that case for trial, it has become necessary for me to take the deposition of Carl Montaine; that deposition has been noticed for tomorrow. In order to facilitate matters, I have arranged that the deposition may be taken during the noon recess. It may, however, require a little additional time to complete the deposition, in which event I shall ask the indulgence of the Court."
John Lucas, sneeringly sure of himself, made an impatient gesture. "Counsel well knows," he said, "that the only object of that deposition is to go on a fishing expedition with one of prosecution's witnesses before that witness is put on the stand."
Perry Mason bowed mockingly. "A witness," he said, "who has been wetnursed by the prosecution ever since the death of Gregory Moxley."
"Gentlemen," said Judge Markham, "that will do. Counsel is entitled to take the deposition of the witness if he wishes. That is the law. If the deposition is noticed for tomorrow, it will be taken up tomorrow."