The Case of the Drowning Duck

Chapter 20

The courtroom buzzed with excitement as Perry Mason strode past the barrier which separated the counsel table from the spectators and took his seat beside Lawrence Dormer and the defendant.

Judge Meehan called Court to order.

Lawrence Dormer got to his feet. “If the Court please,” he said, “I would like to move that Mr. Perry Mason be associated in the defense of this case.”

“It is so ordered,” Judge Meehan said.

Mason slowly arose. “Now then, Your Honor,” he observed, “upon behalf of the defendant, John L. Witherspoon, we withdraw the objection the defendant made yesterday to the question which the district attorney asked Officer Haggerty. Let the officer go ahead and answer it.”

District Attorney Copeland was more than surprised. It was a moment before he could master his astonishment. Sensing a trap, he got to his feet, and said, “Of course, the Court will understand that the question is asked only for the purpose of showing that the defendant would have had access to similar poisons, a knowledge of their use and application, and a knowledge of the fatal nature of this gas.”

“That is my understanding,” Judge Meehan said.

“I trust that counsel understands it,” Copeland announced, looking across at Perry Mason.

Mason sat down and crossed his knees. “Counsel understands the law — or thinks he does,” he said with a smile.

For a long thirty seconds, District Attorney Copeland hesitated; then he had the question read to the witness and received his answer.

Feeling his way cautiously, Copeland showed the discovery of the body of Leslie Milter, that the poison, its disposition and use were exactly the same as that which had caused the death of Roland Burr.

Copeland also showed that Witherspoon had appeared at the apartment some thirty or forty minutes after the discovery of Milter’s body, that he had then stated to the witness, Haggerty, that he was in search of Perry Mason, who, Haggerty informed him, had just left. Witherspoon had then stated he “had been looking everywhere for Mr. Mason, and had come to Milter’s apartment as a last resort.” The witness stated Witherspoon not only had made no reference to an earlier visit to Milter’s apartment, but had given his hearers to understand that this was the first time he had ever been there.

All of these questions went into the record and were answered without objection. From the extreme care with which Copeland phrased his questions, it was apparent that he was becoming more and more worried.

At the close of Haggerty’s examination, he got to his feet, and said, “If the Court please, this evidence will be connected up by my next witness, by whom we will prove that this defendant was seen leaving Milter’s apartment at just about the time the murder must have been committed. The Court will understand that this course of procedure may be somewhat unusual, that all of this line of evidence is being offered for a very limited purpose, and,” he added triumphantly, “it has been received without objection on the part of the defendant.”

“Any further questions?” Mason asked.

“No. You may cross-examine.”

Mason said, “Mr. Haggerty, when you first entered that apartment, you noticed a goldfish bowl with a small duck in it?”

“Objected to as not proper cross-examination,” Copeland said promptly. “The evidence concerning the murder of Milter was introduced for a very limited purpose. I have no desire to try the murder case at this time.”

“It doesn’t make any difference what you desire,” Mason said. “You opened the door on direct examination far enough to serve your purpose. Under the laws of cross-examination, I have the right to throw it all the way open. And that’s just what I’m going to do, Mr. District Attorney, throw it wide open!”

Copeland said, “Your Honor, I object. This is not proper cross-examination.”

“Why not?” Mason asked. “You’ve sought to connect the defendant with the murder of Milter.”

“But only for the purpose of showing familiarity with that particular method of perpetrating a murder,” the district attorney said.

“I don’t care what your purpose is or was,” Mason told him. “I’m going to prove that John L. Witherspoon couldn’t have had anything to do with the murder of Milter. I’m going to prove that Milter was dead before Witherspoon ever started up the stairs to that apartment. I m going to prove it by your own witnesses as well as by some of mine. And then I’m going to hurl your argument right back into your teeth. You’ve walked into this and...”

Judge Meehan pounded with his gavel. “Counsel will refrain from personalities,” he said. “Counsel will address his argument to the Court.”

“Very well,” Mason said with a smile. “Your Honor, I submit that the district attorney has sought to introduce certain evidence for a limited purpose. There was no objection on the part of the defense to that evidence. He has shown the part of it which he thought would benefit his case. We’re entitled to show it all.”

“So far as this specific question is concerned,” Judge Meehan said, “the objection is overruled. The witness will answer it.”

“That’s right. There was a duck in that goldfish bowl,” Haggerty said.

“And was there anything peculiar about that duck?”

“Yes”

“What?”

“Well, it seemed to be — it was sort of paddling around in the water — it looked like a duck that didn’t know how to swim — looked like it was drowning.”

The roar of laughter which came up from the courtroom drowned out the beating of the judge’s gavel.

Haggerty shifted his position uncomfortably on the stand, but glared dogged defiance at the laughing spectators.

“This being an agricultural community,” Mason conceded with a smile, when the uproar had subsided, “I take it that the idea of a duck that hasn’t learned how to swim, and drowns in a goldfish bowl is rather amusing to the spectators. Are you certain that the duck was drowning, Mr. Haggerty?”

Haggerty said, “There was something wrong with that duck. I don’t know what it was, but it was sunk down under the water. Just a little of it was sticking up.”

“Have you ever heard of ducks diving?” Mason asked.

A titter ran around the courtroom.

Haggerty said, “Yes,” and then added, “But this was the first time I ever saw one dive stern first.”

A gale of laughter swept the courtroom before it was silenced.

“But you’re certain there was something wrong with the duck when you entered that room?” Mason asked, when order had been restored.

“Yes. It wasn’t sitting right. It was about two-thirds sunk.”

“What happened to the duck after that?” Mason asked.

“Well, the duck seemed to get well. I was pretty much all in myself from getting a whiff of that gas. Then, when I got to feeling better, I looked at the duck again. That time, it was floating on the water all right.”

“Was the duck still in the fish bowl when the defendant entered the apartment?” Mason asked.

“Yes.”

“Did the defendant make any statement about that duck?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“He said it was his duck.”

“Anything else?”

“He said that Marvin Adams, a young man who had been calling at the house, had taken the duck away with him that evening.”

“And the defendant identified the duck positively?”

“Yes, absolutely. He said that he’d swear to it anywhere. It was his duck.”

Mason bowed and smiled. “Thank you very much, Officer Haggerty, for having made a very good witness. I have no further questions.”

District Attorney Copeland hesitated a moment, then called, “Alberta Cromwell.”

Alberta Cromwell marched down the aisle of the courtroom, held up her hand, took the oath, then seated herself in the witness chair. Once she glanced at Perry Mason, and her eyes were hard and defiant, the eyes of a woman who had made up her mind as to exactly what she is going to say, and has determined to deny those things she is not willing to admit.

Copeland was suave once more. This time he was on more familiar legal grounds, and his manner and the tone of his voice showed it. “Your name is Alberta Cromwell and you live here in El Templo?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And did so live on the night when this crime was alleged to have been committed?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You lived at eleven sixty-two Cinder Butte Avenue in an apartment house?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The same apartment house where the decedent, Leslie Milter lived?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And where was your apartment with reference to his?”

“My apartment was right next to his. There were two apartments on the second floor. He had one, and I had the other.”

“Was there any connecting door or any means of communication?”

“No, sir.”

“Now, on the night in question, did you see the defendant in this case, Mr. John L. Witherspoon?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where and when?”

“It was about twenty minutes to twelve, perhaps a quarter of twelve. I can’t be certain of the exact time. I know that it was after eleven-thirty and before midnight.”

“Where did you see him?”

“Just leaving the apartment of Leslie L. Milter.”

“Are you certain of your identification?”

“Yes, sir. I not only saw the man, but I took down the license number of his automobile. I am certain it was Mr. Witherspoon.”

“Now, do you know whether he left the apartment of the decedent, or...”

“Yes, sir,” she interrupted in her eagerness to answer the question. “I know that he left the apartment. I heard his feet coming down the stairs; then I heard the lower door open and slam, and he walked across the porch.”

“How could you see all this?”

“From my window. The house has two bay windows on each side of the second floor. One is on Mr. Milter’s side, and one is on my side. From my bay window, I could look down and see the door of Mr. Milter’s apartment.”

“You may cross-examine,” Copeland said.

Mason got slowly to his feet, his eyes boring steadily into those of the witness. “You were acquainted with Leslie Milter in his lifetime.”

“Yes.”

“You had known him in Los Angeles?”

Her eyes were defiant. “Yes.”

“You were his common-law wife?”

“No.”

“You were not his wife?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Did you ever claim to be his wife?”

“No.”

“Did you ever live with him as his wife?”

“Objected to as incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial, not proper cross-examination,” Copeland roared, indignantly. “That question, if the Court please, is asked purely for the purpose of debasing the witness. It has absolutely no bearing on...”

“The objection is sustained.”

Mason bowed acknowledgement of the Court’s ruling, said respectfully, “Your Honor, if I might be permitted to argue the point, I think that the bias of a witness is a material factor and...”

“This Court is not going to permit the question,” Judge Meehan stated. “You are entitled to ask the witness if she was the wife of the decedent, if she had ever claimed to have been his wife. You are entitled to ask her if she was friendly with him, but having received the answers that you did, the Court rules that you are not entitled to place this witness in an embarrassing position in view of the present state of the record. You will understand, Counselor, that the evidence concerning the murder of Leslie Milter is introduced for a very limited purpose. While your right of cross-examination as to the facts which the officers encountered in that apartment is not limited, your cross-examination of this witness as to motivation is limited. The Court rules that the relationship called for in your question, even if it did ever exist, would be too remote.”

“Very well,” Mason said, “I will make my point in this way. Miss Cromwell, it was possible for you to go out of the back door of your apartment and, by climbing over a low wooden railing, get on the back porch of Milter’s apartment, wasn’t it?”

“I suppose a person could have done so.”

“Did you ever do so?”

There was something of triumph in her eyes. “No,” she said flatly and in a tone of cold finality.

“You hadn’t done so on the evening in question?”

“Certainly not.”

“You hadn’t seen Leslie Milter on that evening?”

“I had seen him earlier in the evening when he entered his apartment.”

“You hadn’t been visiting in his apartment?”

“No, sir.”

“And Leslie Milter wasn’t fixing a drink of hot buttered rum for you when the doorbell rang, and he didn’t then tell you to go back over to your apartment?”

“No, sir.”

“Now, you have mentioned that you saw the defendant leaving the apartment. Had you been keeping a watch on the apartment earlier in the evening?”

“No, sir. I wasn’t keeping a watch on it when I saw the defendant leave. I simply happened to be standing there at the bay window.”

“Why were you standing at the bay window?”

“I simply happened to be there.”

“Could the defendant have looked up and seen you?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“Because I was looking out. He would have had to look in.”

“And he couldn’t have done so?”

“Certainly not.”

“You mean to say that he couldn’t have seen you standing there in that window because there was no light behind you?”

“Of course.”

“Then the room must have been dark.”

She hesitated a moment, then said, “Yes, I guess it was. It may have been.”

“The lights were not on in that room?” Mason asked.

“No, sir. I guess not.”

“And the shades were up?”

“Why... I... I’m not certain.”

“Do you want this Court to believe that you saw the witness through a drawn shade?” Mason asked.

“No, I didn’t mean that.”

“What did you mean, then?”

For a moment, she was trapped, and there was desperation on her face. Then she thought of a way out and said triumphantly, “I thought your question related to whether all the shades were up or down. I knew that the shade on that one window had not been drawn, but I couldn’t remember about the others.”

She smiled triumphantly, as much as to say, “You thought you had me that time, didn’t you? But I got out of it.”

Mason said, “But there were no lights in the room.·”

“No. I’m certain there were none.”

“For what purpose did you enter that darkened room?” Mason asked.

“Why, I... I just wanted something in there.”

“The window at which you were standing was near the door on the side farthest removed from the door?”

“Yes, on the side farthest away from the door.”

“And the light switch is near the door, is it not?”

“Yes.”

“So that, when you entered this room in search of something, which you can’t now recall, you didn’t turn on the light switch, but you did walk all the way across this darkened room to stand at the window, looking down at the door of Leslie Milter’s apartment?”

“I was just standing there — thinking.”

“I see. Now, shortly after that, when I appeared at the apartment and rang the doorbell trying to get in, you came down the stairs from your apartment, did you not?”

“Yes.”

“And talked with me?”

“Yes.”

“And we walked a few feet together, up toward the center of town?”

“Yes.”

“And you went to the stage office, did you not?”

The district attorney was gloating now. “Your Honor, I must object. This examination certainly is going far afield. Where this witness went, or what she did after she had left that apartment house, is certainly not proper cross-examination. It’s incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial, and too remote in point of time to have any possible bearing upon the case. The Court will bear in mind that this entire evidence has been introduced for a very limited purpose.”

Judge Meehan nodded, said, “This Court will hear argument on it, Mr. Mason, if you wish to argue it, but it would seem that the position taken by the district attorney is correct.”

“I would think so,” Mason said. “I should think that it was quite correct, and I think I have no more questions of this young woman. Thank you very much, Miss Cromwell.”

Plainly she had expected a pitched battle with Mason, and his calm acceptance of her statements, which were so directly at variance with the statements she had previously made to him, came as a surprise.

She was just about to leave the witness stand when Mason said casually, “Oh, one more question, Miss Cromwell. I notice Raymond E. Allgood is in the courtroom. Do you know him?”

She hesitated, then said, “Yes.”

“Do you know his secretary, Sally Elberton?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever made any statement to either of them, claiming that you were the wife of Leslie Milter?” Mason asked.

“I... That is...”

“Will you stand up, Miss Elberton, please?”

The blond young woman got to her feet very reluctantly.

“Haven’t you ever told this woman that you were Leslie Milter’s common-law wife?” Mason asked.

“I didn’t say I was a common-law wife,” the witness said. “I told her to lay off of him, and...” She caught herself abruptly in mid-sentence, dammed the stream of words which had started to pour from her mouth.

As she realized the effect of what she had said, as she looked around at the curious eyes focussed upon her, she dropped slowly back into the witness chair as though her knees had suddenly lost their strength.

“Go on,” Mason said. “Go right ahead and finish what you were about to say.”

She said indignantly, “You trapped me into that. You made me think it was all over, and then got that woman to stand up, and...”

“What have you against that woman, as you term her?... That’s all, Miss Elberton. You may be seated again.”

Sally Elberton settled back into her seat, conscious of the craning necks of spectators; then all eyes were once more upon Alberta Cromwell.

“All right,” the witness said, as though suddenly making up her mind to see it through, “I’ll tell you the whole truth. What I told you was the absolute truth except I was trying to cover up on that one thing. I was the common-law wife of Leslie Milter. He never did marry me. He told me that it wasn’t necessary, that we were married just as legally as though we’d been married in a church, and I believed him. I lived with him as his wife, and he always introduced me as his wife; and then this woman came along and turned his head completely. She made him want to get away from me. I knew he’d been stepping out on me before, but it had been just here and there, the way a man will. This was different. She’d completely turned his head, and...”

The dazed district attorney, suddenly gathering his presence of mind, interrupted to say, “Just a moment, Your Honor. It seems to me this is also too remote and distant, that it’s incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial, and...”

“I think not,” Judge Meehan ruled sternly. “This witness is now making a statement in direct contradiction to a statement which she made under oath a few minutes earlier. She is admitting that she falsified a part of her testimony. Under the circumstances, the Court wants to hear every bit of explanation this witness wants to make. Go right ahead, Miss Cromwell.”

She turned to face the judge and said, “I don’t suppose you’ll ever understand, but that’s the way it was. Leslie ran away from me and came down here to El Templo. It took me two or three days to find out where he’d gone. I came on down to join him. He told me that he was here on a business matter, and I couldn’t be with him, that it would ruin things if I should try to make trouble. Well, I found there was a vacant apartment next to his, and I moved in. I guess he really was working on a case, and...”

“Never mind what you guess,” District Attorney Copeland interrupted. “Just answer Mr. Mason’s questions, Miss Cromwell. If the Court please, I submit that this witness shouldn’t be allowed to make a statement of this nature. She should only answer the questions which are asked her on cross-examination.”

Judge Meehan leaned forward to regard the young woman. “Are you explaining the contradiction in your testimony, Miss Cromwell?” he asked.

“Yes, Judge.”

“Go right ahead,” Judge Meehan said.

She said, “Then Leslie told me that if I’d be a good girl and not rock the boat, that within a week or so we could go away and travel anywhere we wanted to. We could go down into Mexico or South America, or anywhere. He said that he was going to have lots of money and...”

“I’m not particularly concerned with what he said,” Judge Meehan broke in to say. “I want to know how it happened that you falsified a portion of your testimony and whether that is the only part in which you failed to tell the truth.”

“Well,” she said. “I’ve got to explain this so you’ll understand. Leslie told me the night he was killed that his business was all ready to close up, but that Sally Elberton was coming down to see him. He told me I’d been all wet about her. He said that his relationship with her had been built up just so he could get some information. That he’d been working on her so he could put across this deal. He said she was a vain, empty-headed little brat, and he had to kid her along in order to keep on getting information out of her.”

“Were you over in Leslie Milter’s apartment that night?” Judge Meehan asked.

“Well — yes. I was. I went over to have a talk with him, and he was fixing me a hot buttered rum. He didn’t expect Sally Elberton until right around midnight. Then the doorbell rang, and he got sore and said, ‘I gave that little brat keys to my apartment so she wouldn’t have to stand out in front of it ringing a bell with all the world to see. I suppose she’s lost her keys. You skip over to your apartment, and within half or three-quarters of an hour I’ll give you a signal that the coast is clear.’”

“What did you do?” Mason asked.

“I went out the back door and across to my apartment. I heard him lock the back door after I left. Then I heard him going toward the front of his apartment.”

“Did you look to see who was coming into the apartment?”

“No, sir, I didn’t. She’d have been in by the time I got to my window, anyway. I went in, sat down and listened to the radio.”

“Then what?”

“After a while I began to get nervous and just a little suspicious. I tiptoed out to the back porch, and I couldn’t hear a thing; then I put my ear to the wall and I thought I could hear someone moving around very quietly. Then I thought I heard voices. Well, I made up my mind I’d go and stand at the window and look down at the door and see exactly when she left. I went into the front room and stood by the window. I saw there was a car parked in front of the apartment, and then this man” — she pointed to Witherspoon — “came out and got in the car. I didn’t know that he was expecting any man, and I thought perhaps it might have been an officer.”

“Why an officer?” Mason asked.

She said, “Oh, I don’t know. Leslie was inclined to take chances at times. I — well, he’d had some trouble. Anyway, I took down the license number.’

“And then what?” Mason asked.

She said, “I thought I’d go down and ring Leslie’s bell. I thought that would make him come to the door, and anyone that was upstairs would remain upstairs. I–I wasn’t dressed, just had a robe on over some underthings. So I went back into my bedroom and dressed. Well then, I thought I’d try to peek in through the window in the back door. So I went out to the back porch again, climbed over the rail, and gently tried the back door. It was locked. There was a little diamond-shaped glass window up near the top. By standing on tiptoe, I could look through it. I could see that the kitchen was pretty well filled with smoke. I dragged a box over, and stood on it and looked through the diamond-shaped window. I could see a man’s feet with the toes pointed up, and could see that the pan of sugar and water had boiled dry. I pounded on the door, and got no answer. I tried the knob, and the door was locked. Well, I moved the box back, climbed over the porch rail, back to my apartment, and went downstairs as fast as I could. You were ringing the bell of his door, and so I didn’t dare to show too much interest, or try to force my way in. As soon as I could get away from you, I walked down the street and telephoned the police that something was wrong up at Leslie Milter’s apartment. Then I went to the bus depot, and waited — and so help me, that’s the truth and every bit of it.”

Judge Meehan looked down at Perry Mason. “Any further questions?” he asked.

“None, Your Honor,” Mason said.

District Attorney Copeland answered the judge’s inquiry by a somewhat dazed shake of his head.

“That’s all,” Judge Meehan told the witness. “You are excused.”

It wasn’t until she heard the kindly note in his voice that Alberta Cromwell burst into tears. Sobbing, she groped her way down from the witness box.

The bailiff walked over to District Attorney Copeland, tapped him on the shoulder, and handed him a folded note.

Copeland studied the note with a puzzled expression, then said to Judge Meehan, “Your Honor, I think I have uncovered a very strange and unusual situation. If the Court will permit me, I would like to call a hostile witness.”

“Very well,” Judge Meehan said.

The district attorney got up, walked across the railed-off enclosure, and paused to stand looking at the black-garbed, heavily veiled figure of Mrs. Roland Burr, who was sitting in the front row of the spectators. He raised his voice and said dramatically, “If the Court please, I now wish to put on the stand Diana Burr, the widow of Roland Burr. She will be my next witness. Mrs. Burr, will you please come forward and be sworn?”

Mrs. Burr was surprised and indignant, but at Judge Meehan’s order to come forward, she walked to the witness stand, managing to look very tragic and dainty in her black mourning, and held up her hand and was sworn. She gave her name and address, then waited expectantly while District Attorney Copeland glanced around the courtroom to make certain that he had the undivided attention of the spectators. “Did you ever see a duck drown?” he asked dramatically.

This time there was no levity from the courtroom. It needed but a glance at Mrs. Burr’s countenance to make it plain that this was a moment filled with tense drama.

“Yes,” Mrs. Burr said, in a low voice.

In the silence which descended upon the courtroom, it was possible to hear the sounds of breathing and rustling garments as people moved uneasily in their chairs, straining to get a better view of the witness.

“Where?” District Attorney Copeland asked.

“At the home of John L. Witherspoon.”

“When?”

“About a week ago.”

“What happened?”

She said, “Marvin Adams talked about a drowning duck. My husband laughed at him, and Adams brought in a young duck and a fish bowl. He put something in the water, and the duck began to sink.”

“Did the duck drown?”

“Mr. Adams took him out before the duck had completely drowned.”

The district attorney turned triumphantly to Perry Mason. “And now you may cross-examine,” he said.

“Thank you very much,” Mason said with exaggerated politeness.

For a long moment, Mason sat perfectly still, then he asked quietly, “You formerly lived in Winterburg City, Mrs. Burr?”

“Yes.”

“You first met your husband there?”

“Yes.”

“How old are you?”

She hesitated, then said, “Thirty-nine.”

“Did you ever know a Corine Hassen in Winterburg City?”

“No.”

“Did you ever hear your husband speak of a Miss Corine Hassen?”

She avoided Mason’s eyes.

“What is the object of all this?” the district attorney interrupted. “Why don’t you cross-examine her about the duck?”

Mason ignored the interpolation. “Did you ever hear your husband speak of a Miss Corine Hassen?” he asked again.

“Why — yes — it was years ago.”

Mason settled back in his chair, was silent for several seconds.

“Any more questions?” Judge Meehan asked of Mason.

“None, Your Honor.”

District Attorney Copeland said with a sarcastic smile, “I was hoping you’d ask some questions which would throw a little more light on that drowning duck.”

“I thought you were,” Mason said, smiling. “The drowning duck now becomes your problem, Mr. District Attorney. I have no further questions of this witness.”

The district attorney said, “Very well, I’m going to call Marvin Adams as my next witness. I will state, Your Honor, that I hadn’t expected to do this, but the Court will understand I’m simply trying to get at the true facts of this case. In view of what this witness has said, I think that it’s...”

“The district attorney needs make no statement,” Judge Meehan said. “Simply call your witness.”

“Marvin Adams, come forward,” the district attorney said.

Marvin Adams, obviously reluctant, came slowly forward to the witness stand, was sworn, and sat down facing the hostile eyes of the district attorney.

“You have heard what this last witness said about a duck drowning?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you perform such an experiment?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now then,” the district attorney said, getting to his feet and pointing an accusing finger at Marvin Adams, “did you or did you not perform that experiment in the apartment of Leslie Milter on the night of his murder?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you know Leslie L. Milter?”

“No, sir.”

“Never met him?”

“No, sir.”

“Were you ever at his apartment?”

“No, sir.”

“But you did perform the experiment of making a duck drown, and explained that experiment to the guests assembled in Mr. Witherspoon’s home?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And,” the district attorney said triumphantly, “the persons present included Mr. John L. Witherspoon, did they not?”

“No, sir. Mr. Witherspoon wasn’t there.”

For a moment, the district attorney was nonplused.

“Just what did you do?” he asked, trying to cover his discomfiture. “Just how did you make a duck sink?”

“By the use of a detergent.”

“What is a detergent?”

“It’s a relatively new discovery by means of which the natural antipathy between water and oil can be eliminated.”

“How is that done?”

As Marvin Adams explained the complex action of detergents, the spectators were staring open-mouthed. Judge Meehan leaned forward to look down at the young man, his face showing his interest.

“And do you mean to say that, by the aid of this detergent, you can cause a duck to sink?” the district attorney asked.

“Yes. A few thousandths of one per cent of a powerful detergent in water would cause a duck to submerge.”

The district attorney thought that over for a few moments, then said, “Now, you aren’t as yet related in any way to the defendant in this action, are you?”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

“What?”

“I am his son-in-law.”

“You mean... what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Marvin Adams said, “that I am married to Lois Witherspoon. She is my wife.”

“When did this marriage take place?”

“In Yuma, Arizona, about one o’clock this morning.”

The district attorney took time to think that one over too. Spectators whispered among themselves.

District Attorney Copeland resumed his questioning. Now he was asking his questions in the cautious manner of a hunter stalking his prey. “It is, of course, quite possible that one of the persons who saw this experiment performed could have told the defendant about it. Isn’t that correct?”

“Objected to,” Mason said easily, “as being argumentative and calling for a conclusion of the witness.”

“Sustained,” Judge Meehan snapped.

“Have you ever discussed this experiment of the sinking duck with the defendant?”

“No, sir.”

“With his daughter?”

“Objected to,” Mason said. “Incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial.”

“Sustained.”

Copeland scratched his head, looking down at some papers, looked up at the clock hanging on the wall of the courtroom, said suddenly to Marvin Adams, “When you left the ranch of the defendant the night of the murder, you took with you a small duck, did you not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“One that belonged to the defendant?”

“Yes, sir. His daughter told me I might have it.”

“Exactly. And you took this duck for a certain purpose, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“To perform an experiment?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, are you positive that you didn’t go to the apartment of Leslie L. Milter shortly after leaving Witherspoon’s ranch?”

“I have never been to Mr. Milter’s apartment.”

“Are you willing to swear positively that the duck which Officer Haggerty found in Milter’s apartment was not the same duck which you took from Mr. Witherspoon’s ranch?”

Before Adams could answer the question, Lois Witherspoon said in a clear, firm voice, “He can’t answer that question. I am the only one who can do that.”

Judge Meehan rapped for order, but stared curiously at Lois Witherspoon.

Mason, on his feet, said suavely, “I was about to object to the question, anyway, Your Honor, on the ground that it calls for a conclusion of the witness, that it is argumentative. This Court is not concerned with what a witness is willing to swear to. That doesn’t help solve the issues before the Court. The statements of a fact which a witness makes under his oath are the only pertinent ones. To ask a witness what he ‘is willing to swear to’ is argumentative.”

“That is, of course, merely a loose way of framing the question,” Judge Meehan said. “Perhaps, technically, your objection is correct upon that point.”

“And, even if the questions were reframed,” Mason said, “it calls for a conclusion of the witness. The witness can testify whether he placed any duck in the fish bowl in Milter’s apartment. He can testify whether he was ever in Milter’s apartment. He can testify whether he kept the duck in his possession or what he did with it. But to ask him whether a certain duck is one that he had seen or had in his possession earlier, calls for a conclusion of the witness — unless, of course, it is shown there is some distinguishing mark upon that one particular duck which differentiates it from every other duck.”

“Of course,” Judge Meehan said, “if the witness doesn’t know that, he may state simply that he doesn’t know.”

Marvin Adams was smiling. “But I do know,” he said. “The duck which I left in my automobile...”

“Just a moment,” Mason interrupted, holding up his hand. “There’s an objection before the Court, Mr. Adams. Just refrain from answering until the Court has ruled on the objection.”

Lois Witherspoon, still standing, said, “He can’t answer that question. I’m the only one who can answer it.”

Judge Meehan said, “I am going to ask Miss Witherspoon to be seated. After all, we must maintain order in the courtroom.

“But don’t you understand. Your Honor?“ Lois Witherspoon said. “I...”

“That will do,” Judge Meehan said. “A question has been asked of this witness, and there is an objection before the Court, a rather technical objection to be certain, but one which, nevertheless, the defendant is entitled to make.”

“I think, if the Court please,” Mason said, “more hinges upon this question and this objection than the Court realizes. I notice that it is approaching the hour of the noon adjournment. Might I suggest that the Court take it under advisement until two o’clock this afternoon?”

“I see no reason tor doing so,” Judge Meehan said. “The objection, as I understand it, is technical, first as to the nature of the question, then as to whether it calls for a conclusion of the witness. Of course, if the witness doesn’t actually know, he is free to say so in just those words. I think, therefore, it is not necessary to lay a proper foundation by showing that there was some marking upon the duck or other identification which would enable the witness to know. However, as to the form of the question — I am referring now to the point that the district attorney has asked the witness if he would be willing to swear to a certain thing — I believe the objection is well taken. The Court will, therefore, sustain the objection to this particular question upon this one specific point, and the district attorney will then be at liberty to ask another question in proper form — and I suppose an objection will be made by counsel for the defense. Whereupon, the objection will be in the record in such a clear-cut way there can be no confusion as to the question of law involved.”

“Very well, Your Honor,” Mason said. “Pardon me, if the Court please, before the district attorney reframes that question, may I suggest to the Court that the district attorney should be cautioned not to throw away the most valuable piece of evidence in this case.”

Copeland gave a quick start of surprise, whirled to stare at Mason. “What do you mean?”

Mason said suavely, “That bit of paper which was handed to you a few minutes ago.”

“What about it?”

“It’s evidence.”

The district attorney said to Judge Meehan, “I submit, Your Honor, that it is not evidence. That was a private, confidential communication handed to me by some person in this room.”

“Who?” Mason asked.

“That is none of your business,” Copeland said.

Judge Meehan interposed dryly, “That will do, gentlemen. We will have an end to the personalities. And the Court will try to restore some semblance of order. Now, Miss Witherspoon, if you will please be seated.”

“But, Your Honor, I...”

“Be seated, please. You will have an opportunity to tell your story later on.

“Now, for the purpose of getting the record straight, let it appear that a question has been asked of this witness. An objection was made to that question. The objection has been sustained.”

“And, if the Court please,” Mason interposed suavely, “may it appear at this time that I have requested that the district attorney do not destroy the note which was handed to him a few minutes ago?”

“Upon what ground?” Judge Meehan asked. “I am inclined to agree with the district attorney that that is a confidential communication.”

Mason said, “It is the most pertinent piece of evidence in this case. I am asking that the Court impound that evidence until I can prove that it is pertinent.”

“Upon what grounds?” Copeland asked.

Mason said, “Let us list the people who knew that Marvin Adams had performed the experiment of drowning a duck, since only such a person could have written that note to the district attorney — a note which, I take it, advised the district attorney to call Mrs. Burr to the stand and interrogate her on this point. The defendant in this case didn’t know it. In any event, he didn’t write that note. Mrs. Burr didn’t write that note. Lois Witherspoon didn’t write it. Obviously, Marvin Adams didn’t write it. Yet it was written by someone who knew that experiment had been performed at that time and at that place. I think, therefore, the Court will agree with me that this is highly pertinent evidence.”

District Attorney Copeland said, “If the Court please, the prosecutor in a case, as well as the police officers who are investigating a case, quite frequently get anonymous tips to significant facts. The only way they can hope to get such tips is by keeping the source of information confidential.”

Mason interposed quickly, “I think, if the Court please, that, inasmuch as it is approaching the hour of the noon recess, I can discuss the matter in Chambers with the Court and the district attorney, and convince both the Court and the district attorney of the importance of this bit of evidence.”

Judge Meehan said, “I see no reason at the present time for asking the district attorney to submit in evidence any confidential communication he may have received from anyone.”

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Copeland said.

“On the other hand,” Judge Meehan went on, “it seems to me that if there is any chance this might turn out to be a significant piece of evidence, it should be preserved.”

Copeland said with dignity, “I had no intention of destroying it, Your Honor.”

“I thought the district attorney was about to crumple it up and throw it away,” Mason said.

Copeland lashed out at him, “This isn’t the first time you’ve been mistaken in connection with this case.”

Mason bowed. “Being purely a private citizen, my mistakes don’t result in the prosecution of innocent men.”

“That will do, gentlemen,” Judge Meehan said. “The Court will take a recess until two o’clock in the afternoon. I will ask counsel to meet with me in Chambers at one-thirty, and I will ask the district attorney not to destroy that note which was handed to him, until after meeting with counsel in Chambers. Recess until two o’clock this afternoon.”

As people began filing out of the courtroom, Mason looked at Della Street and grinned. “Whew!” he said. “That was close.”

“You mean you were just stalling?” she asked.

“Stalling for time,” he admitted. “Lois Witherspoon was going to stand up there and tell the whole business, right out in public.”

“She’ll do it at two o’clock, anyway,” Della Street said.

“I know it.”

“Well?”

Mason grinned. “That gives me two hours in which to think up a way out, or...”

“Or what?” Della Street asked as Mason left the sentence unfinished.

“Or solve the case,” Mason said.

Lois Witherspoon came pressing forward. She said, “That was very, very clever, Mr. Mason, but it isn’t going to stop me.”

“All right,” Mason said. “But will you promise you won’t say anything to anyone about it until two o’clock.”

“I’m going to tell Marvin.”

“Not until just before he goes on the stand,” Mason said. “It won’t make any difference.”

“No, I’m going to tell him now.”

“Tell me what?” Marvin Adams asked, coming up behind her and slipping his arm around her.

“About the duck,” Lois said.

A deputy sheriff, coming forward, said, “John Witherspoon wants to talk with you, Mr. Mason. And he also wants to see his daughter and—” here the sheriff grinned broadly — “his new son-in-law.”

Mason said to Adams, “This might be a good time for you to go and talk things over with him. Tell him I’ll try and see him shortly before court convenes this afternoon.”

Mason caught Paul Drake’s eye, and motioned him to join them.

“Have you been able to find out anything about that letter, Paul?” Mason asked in a low voice.

“Which one?”

“The one that I gave you — the one Marvin Adams received, offering him a hundred dollars to show the writer how to make a duck sink.”

Drake said, “I can’t find out a thing about it, Perry. The telephone number is just as you surmised, that of a big department store. They don’t know anyone named Gridley P. Lahey.”

“How about the letter?”

“Absolutely nothing you can find out about it. It’s mailed in a plain, stamped envelope and written on a piece of paper which has been torn from a writing pad, one of the sort that is sold in drugstores, stationery stores, five-and-ten-cent stores, and so many other places that it’s impossible to try and trace it. We have the handwriting to go by, and that’s all. It isn’t doing us any good now.”

Mason said, “It may help later, Paul. See if you can locate the woman who was employed as nurse — the one Burr fired, will you? She—”

“She was here in court,” Drake interrupted. “Just a minute, Perry. I think I may be able to locate her.”

He strode out through the swinging gate in the mahogany rail, to thread his way through the crowd that was slowly shuffling its way out of the courtroom. A few minutes later, he was back with a rather attractive young woman. “This is Miss Field,” he said, “the nurse who was on the job the morning Burr was murdered.”

Miss Field gave Mason her hand, said, “I’ve been very much interested in watching the way the case developed. I don’t think I should talk to you. I’ve been subpoenaed by the district attorney as a witness.”

“To show that he asked Witherspoon to get him a fishing rod?” Mason asked.

“Yes. I think that’s one of the things he wants.”

Mason said, “You don’t do any fishing, do you, Miss Field?”

“I don’t have time.”

“Do you know very much about fishing rods?”

“No.”

“Is there any chance,” Mason asked, “any chance whatever, no matter how remote, that Burr could have got up out of bed?”

“No chance on earth. Not without cutting the rope which held that weight on his leg, and even then, I doubt if he could have made it. If he had, he’d have put the fracture out of place.”

“The rope wasn’t tampered with?”

“No.”

Mason said, “He didn’t want you touching that bag of his. Is that what caused your discharge?”

“That’s the way the trouble started. He kept that bag by the side of the bed, and was always delving into it, pulling out books and material to tie flies, and things of that sort. I stumbled over that bag every single time I went near the bed. So finally I told him that Id arrange the things out on the dresser where he could see them, and he could point out whatever he wanted, and Id bring it over to him.”

“And he didn’t like that?”

“It seemed to make him furious.”

“Then what happened?”

“Nothing right then, but a half hour later he wanted something, and I stumbled over the bag again. I stooped to pick it up, and he grabbed my arm and almost broke it. I can ordinarily get along with patients, but there are some things I won’t stand. However, I probably would simply have reported it to the doctor and stayed on the job, if it hadn’t been that he ordered me out of the room and told me he’d start throwing things at me if I ever came in again. He even tried to club me with a piece of metal tubing.”

“Where did he get the tubing?” Mason asked.

“It was one he’d had me get for him the night before. It had some papers in it, some blueprints. It was one of those metal tubes such as maps and blueprints come in.”

“Had you seen that on the morning of the murder?”

“Yes”

“Where?”

“He had it down by the side of the bed, down with the bag.”

“What did he do with it after he tried to club you with it?”

“He put it — let me see, I think he put it under the bedclothes. I was so frightened by that time that I didn’t notice — I have never seen a man so absolutely furious. We have trouble with patients once in a while, but this was different. He actually frightened me. He seemed beside himself.”

“And you telephoned for the doctor?”

“I telephoned and reported to the doctor that he was exceedingly violent and was insisting that a new nurse should come on the case; and I told the doctor I thought it would be better if a new nurse came out.”

“But the doctor came out without bringing another nurse?”

“Yes. Doctor Rankin thought he could fix everything all up with a little diplomacy. He just didn’t realize the full extent of what had happened, nor how absolutely violent the patient was.”

“Now, he told you the day before that someone was trying to kill him?”

She seemed embarrassed, said, “I don’t think I should talk with you about that, Mr. Mason, not without the district attorney’s consent. You see, I’m a witness in the case.”

“I don’t want to try to tamper with your testimony,” Mason said.

“Well, I don’t think I should talk with you about that.”

Mason said, “I appreciate your position. It’s all right, and thank you a lot, Miss Field.”