“Proceed, Mr. Mason,” Judge Barnes said.
Mason inquired casually, “You handed Mr. Hogan the Trent bullet, and asked him to compare that bullet with the test bullet fired from the Breel revolver, didn’t you, Sergeant?”
“I did nothing of the sort,” Sergeant Holcomb said.
“Just what did you do, Sergeant?”
“I took the Trent bullet from my pocket and handed that to Hogan, and told him to compare it. I didn’t say with which gun. Hogan compared it with the test bullet from the Breel gun first. Naturally, the bullets didn’t match. He told me so, and I said, ‘Of course, they don’t. That isn’t the Cullens bullet, that’s the Trent bullet.’ So then he compared the Trent bullet with the test bullet from the Trent gun, and they matched. Then I handed Hogan the Cullens bullet, and he compared that with the test bullet from the Breel gun, and they matched. Now, those are the facts of the case, and you can’t mix me up on ‘em, Perry Mason!”
Judge Barnes said sternly, “That will do, Sergeant Holcomb.”
Mason said, “Isn’t it a fact, Sergeant, that you confused those bullets? Didn’t you first hand Mr. Hogan the Trent bullet under the impression that it was the Cullens bullet?”
“No, sir,” Holcomb said, “I told you once, and I’m telling you again, and I’ll tell you a thousand times, that I put the Cullens bullet in my left vest pocket, and the Trent bullet in my right vest pocket.”
“But when you handed those bullets to the ballistics expert, you first took the bullet from your right waistcoat pocket, did you not?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It’s natural for a person to do that when he’s right-handed,” Sergeant Holcomb said.
Mason smiled. “And, by the same token, Sergeant, and following the same line of reasoning, it’s natural for a right-handed person to put an object given him first in his right-hand pocket, and an object given him after that in his left-hand pocket, isn’t it?”
Sergeant Holcomb’s face flared into color again. For a moment he was silent. Then he said, “I’m not talking about what’s natural when I tell you where I put those bullets. I know where I put them. I put the Cullens bullet in my left pocket, and the Trent bullet in my right pocket.”
“Notwithstanding the fact that you received the Cullens bullet first,” Mason said, “and that your natural tendency would be to put that bullet in your right-hand vest pocket, you put that bullet in your left vest pocket?”
“Notwithstanding anything, and notwithstanding your attempt to confuse the jury about what I’m...”
Judge Barnes pounded on the desk, “Sergeant Holcomb,” he said, “just one more violation of the Court’s admonition, and you will find yourself fined for contempt. You will answer questions and confine your comments to statements necessary to answer questions. Now, answer Mr. Mason’s question.”
Sergeant Holcomb said sullenly, “I put the Cullens bullet in my left pocket, and the Trent bullet in my right. I didn’t mix them up.”
“There’s no chance you could have been mistaken?
“None whatever.”
“Not one chance in a million?”
“Not one chance in ten hundred thousand million,” Sergeant Holcomb said.
Mason waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “That,” he said, “is all.”
Sampson took occasion to smile at the jury. “Call Eva Tannis,” he said.
Eva Tannis took the stand, and answered Sampson’s questions in a low well-modulated voice. She gave the impression of being a tigress, with her claws momentarily sheathed as she corroborated the testimony of Bill Golding in every detail.
“Cross-examine,” Sampson said, and braced himself to frame indignant objections should Mason seek to insinuate the witness had, at one time or another, posed as Mrs. Golding. But Mason said quietly, “No questions. No cross-examination at all, Miss Tannis, thank you.”
The Court thereupon took a brief recess, and Mason, surrounded by newspaper reporters, disclaimed any attempt on his part to confuse Sergeant Holcomb. “I just wanted to establish the facts,” he said, “that’s all.”
At the end of the brief recess, Sampson announced tersely that the prosecution would rest its case.
Mason said, “I desire to make a very brief opening statement to the jury.” He arose and walked across the courtroom to stand in front of the mahogany rail which separated the jury box from the courtroom. In a quiet, courteous, almost conversational tone of voice, he said, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am going to ask you to remember that it is not necessary for the defendant to prove herself innocent. She has had neither the time, nor the facilities, to make an investigation which would enable her to establish who actually did murder Austin Cullens. It is encumbent upon the Prosecution to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that she murdered Austin Cullens. In the event the Prosecution fails to do this, the defendant is entitled to an acquittal.”
“Now then, ladies and gentlemen, the entire case of the Prosecution hinges upon the fact that the gun Diggers says he found in Sarah Breel’s handbag, and which we have referred to as the Breel gun, is the one which fired the bullet that killed Austin Cullens. We expect to prove to you that it is a physical impossibility that this gun could have killed Cullens. We expect to prove to you that it is a mathematical certainty that this gun did kill George Trent. And, in the same manner, ladies and gentlemen, we expect to prove to you that the Trent gun killed Austin Cullens.”
Mason turned from the startled faces of the jurors to glance at Larry Sampson. “Will you, Mr. Sampson,” he asked, “stipulate that George Trent was murdered on the Saturday afternoon in question some time between the hours of two o’clock in the evening that the best evidence available by your autopsy surgeon is that he met his death at approximately the hour of five o’clock?”
Sampson hesitated, and was aware that the eyes of the jurors were on him. He knew that he shouldn’t hesitate. His manner should be that of striving to be fair, of asking only for justice. And yet, he sensed a trap. There was a peculiar sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. After all, Sergeant Holcomb might.
“Because,” Mason went on smoothly, “in the event you do not so stipulate, I will call your own witnesses, one by one, as my witnesses and prove absolutely that George Trent was shot by a thirty-eight caliber revolver at approximately the hour of five o’clock in the afternoon.”
Once more Sampson hesitated. There seemed to be a ringing in his ears, as a confused medley of thoughts crowded his mind, demanding his attention. Suppose Mason should be right... But he couldn’t be right... But could he confuse the issues... Did he dare to stipulate... Suppose he didn’t stipulate... My God, this hesitation was the worst possible trial strategy! It looked as though he had something to conceal. Well, for God’s sake, make up your mind... But did he dare stipulate... “I am waiting for my answer,” Mason said.
Larry Sampson took a deep breath. “I will so stipulate,” he said. “But you understand, Mr. Mason, I am not stipulating anything whatever about these bullets or these guns. The Prosecution stands absolutely on the testimony of Sergeant Holcomb.”
“I so understand,” Mason said courteously. “My first witness will be Lieutenant Ogilby.”
Lieutenant Ogilby advanced to the stand with military bearing. He testified that he was a Lieutenant in the United States Army that, as such, he was interested in revolver shooting that he was friendly with Virginia Trent, a niece of George Trent that they occasionally took walks in the country that he had taught her revolver shooting that his service revolver was too heavy for her, but that her uncle possessed a light thirty-eight caliber revolver, shooting a shell known generally as a thirty-eight short, which suited Miss Trent’s hand. That, under his guidance, she had become an expert shot. That on the Saturday afternoon when George Trent had been murdered, he had called for Virginia Trent in his automobile. That she had taken the gun from the upper right-hand drawer of the desk in George Trent’s office. That at the time, Trent had been out to lunch. That the witness saw Trent eating lunch at a lunch counter near the building where he had his office. That the witness and Virginia Trent had gone out into the hills and had fired some fifty shots at targets. That he had returned the witness to her home at approximately six o’clock in the evening.