The Case of the Glamorous Ghost

Chapter number 13

As court convened the next morning an unusual situation was commented on by courtroom attachés.

Usually a trial in which Perry Mason appeared would fill every seat in the courtroom. Now there was but a sprinkling of spectators, a sinister indication of the fact that in the mind of the public the case against Eleanor Hepner was so dead open-and-shut that the contest was too one-sided to be dramatic and that even the ingenuity of Perry Mason couldn’t keep the case from being a run-of-the-mill conviction.

Hamilton Burger, the district attorney, noticed the vacant rows of seats with annoyance. Cases where he had met humiliating defeat at the hands of Perry Mason had made newspaper headlines and had resulted in packed courtrooms. Now that he was in a position to win a case hands down it appeared he would have but a small audience.

Hamilton Burger said, “Your Honor, I now wish to call Ethel Belan to the stand.”

“Very well,” Judge Moran said. “Come forward and be sworn, Miss Belan.”

Ethel Belan, carefully groomed for her appearance on the stand, her manner radiating self-confidence and an eager desire to match wits with Perry Mason, held up her hand, was sworn, took the witness stand, answered the usual preliminary questions as to occupation and residence, then glanced expectantly at Hamilton Burger.

Burger, with the manner of a magician about to perform a trick which will leave the audience speechless, said. “You live in apartment 360 at the Belinda Apartments, Miss Belan?”

“That’s right. Yes, sir.”

“Who has the adjoining apartment on the south?”

“Miss Suzanne Granger has apartment 358.”

“You are acquainted with Miss Granger?”

“Oh, yes.”

“How long has she lived in that apartment?”

“Some two years, to my knowledge.”

“And how long have you lived there in apartment 360?”

“Just a little over two years.”

“Are you acquainted with the defendant, Eleanor Corbin?”

“I am. Yes, sir.”

“When did you first meet her?”

“On the ninth of August.”

“Of this year?”

“Yes.”

“And how did you happen to meet the defendant?”

“She came to see me. She said she had a proposition to make to me.”

“And did she make such a proposition?”

“Yes.”

“This was in writing or in a conversation?”

“In a conversation.”

“Where did that conversation take place?”

“In my apartment.”

“And who was present at that conversation?”

“Just the defendant and me.”

“And what did the defendant say at the time, as nearly as you can give us her exact words?”

“The defendant told me that she was interested in Suzanne Granger in the adjoining apartment.”

“Did she say why?”

“She said Miss Granger had stolen her boy friend.”

“Did she use the word husband or the expression boy friend?”

“She said boy friend.”

“Did she give you the name of the boy friend?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What was that name?”

“Douglas Hepner.”

“And what was the proposition the defendant made to you?”

“She wanted to come and live with me in my apartment. She wanted to see whether Douglas Hepner was actually calling on Suzanne Granger. She said that Douglas Hepner had told her it was purely a business relationship, that she felt certain he was two-timing her with Suzanne Granger, that she wanted to find out. She offered to pay me two hundred dollars as a bonus and a rental of eighty-five dollars a week for two weeks.”

“And what did you do in relation to this proposition that she made?”

“Naturally I jumped at the chance. The apartment had been rather expensive, my roommate had left and I was a little lonely. I had a roommate for some eighteen months, then she left and I have been carrying the apartment alone because I wanted to find someone who was completely congenial. That hadn’t been as easy as I had hoped. This offer was one I could hardly afford to reject.”

“So the defendant moved in with you?”

“That is right.”

“Now I have here a sketch map of the arrangement of your apartment and the arrangement of the adjoining apartment, that of Suzanne Granger. I am going to ask you if this correctly shows your apartment?”

“It shows the arrangement of my apartment, but I have never been in Miss Granger’s apartment.”

“That’s right. I am going to identify it as Miss Granger’s apartment by another witness. I am asking you only to tell us whether this correctly shows the arrangement of your apartment.”

“It does. Yes, sir.”

“It represents a correct delineation of the general plan of your apartment?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now did the defendant designate any particular place where she was to stay in the apartment?”

“She did indeed. My bedroom was the one with the larger closet. It was next to the bedroom occupied by Miss Granger in 358. The defendant insisted that I should move my bedroom to the other one with the smaller closet so she could move in this bedroom which was next to the Granger apartment.”

“Now then,” Hamilton Burger said, rising from his chair with ponderous grace, and with something of a verbal flourish in his voice, “I show you People’s Exhibit G, a .38 caliber Smith & Wesson revolver, number C-48809, and ask you if you have ever seen that gun before?”

“Just a moment, Your Honor,” Mason said. “That question is objected to as leading and suggestive.”

“It can be answered yes or no,” Hamilton Burger said.

“Certainly it can,” Mason said, “but you have indicated the answer that you desire. If you want to ask this witness about any gun, go ahead and ask the witness, but don’t shove the weapon in her face, don’t designate it, don’t describe it by number. If she saw a .38 caliber revolver, let her testify to that fact.”

“Oh, it’s so obvious, Your Honor,” Hamilton Burger said. “This objection is merely for the purpose of...”

“Technically the objection is well taken,” Judge Moran said.

“Very well,” Hamilton Burger said, tossing the revolver back on the clerk’s desk with a gesture of disgust. “Did the defendant have any weapon in her possession?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What?”

“A .38 caliber revolver.”

“Can you describe that revolver?”

“It had a short barrel. It was blued steel. It looked just like that revolver you picked up just now.”

Burger turned and let the jury see his triumphant grin as he looked at Perry Mason.

“Did she show you that revolver?”

“I saw it in her overnight bag.”

“I am coming to that,” Hamilton Burger said. “What luggage did the defendant have with her when she moved in?”

“She had an overnight bag, a suitcase and a two-suiter. They were all very distinctive, a red and white checkerboard pattern.”

“And what became of this luggage?”

“She telephoned me about it.”

“Who did?”

“The defendant.”

“You talked with her on the phone?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you recognize her voice?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you call her by name?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did she call you by name?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What was the date of this conversation?”

“The seventeenth of August.”

“And what did she say?”

“She said, ‘Ethel, you’re going to have to stand back of me. I’m pretending I have amnesia. Don’t say anything to anyone about my staying with you. Don’t communicate with the police or newspaper reporters. Just sit tight. I’ll send for my luggage when I think it’s safe to do so.”

“You’re certain about that conversation?” Hamilton Burger asked.

“Why, of course. Yes, sir.”

“And the defendant said she was feigning amnesia?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And this was on the seventeenth?”

“Yes, sir.”

“At what time?”

“About eight-thirty in the morning.”

“Now then,” Hamilton Burger said, his manner showing that this was the dramatic highlight of the entire case, “did you ask the defendant why the necessity for all this secrecy, why she was feigning amnesia?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And did the defendant answer you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did the defendant make any explanation, give any reason that would account for her conduct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And what was that reason?”

“The defendant said, and I can give you her exact words because they seared themselves into my memory, she said, ‘Ethel, I’m in a scrape, and I’ve got to protect myself.’ ”

Hamilton Burger stood facing the jury, his hands slightly outspread, prolonged the dramatic effect of that moment by a significant silence.

Judge Moran, finally realizing the tactics of the district attorney, his voice showing irritation, said, “Well, proceed with your questioning, Mr. District Attorney, unless you have finished with the witness, and if you have, kindly advise counsel for the defense so he may cross-examine.”

“No, Your Honor,” Hamilton Burger said, still facing the jury, “I am by no means finished with this witness. I was merely collecting my thoughts as to further questions.”

“Well, get them collected and proceed,” Judge Moran said testily.

“Yes, Your Honor.”

Hamilton Burger turned to the witness. “At the time she told you this, the body of Douglas Hepner had not been discovered. Is that right?”

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

“Sustained,” Judge Moran snapped.

Burger tried another tack. “Now what did you do with the luggage belonging to the defendant and which you said you had in your possession?”

“That was given to her attorney.”

“By her attorney you mean Perry Mason, the lawyer seated here at the defendant’s counsel table?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And when did you give that baggage to him?”

“On the seventeenth day of August. In the afternoon.”

“And how did you happen to give it to him?”

“Well, he came to see me. He was accompanied by his secretary, Della Street. He knew that the defendant had been staying with me and from what he said I gathered that... well, he wanted the luggage and I let him have it.”

“And that luggage which you gave Perry Mason was the same which the defendant had left with you?”

“It was.”

Hamilton Burger said, “I now hand you an overnight bag bearing the initials E.C. and ask you if you have ever seen that bag before?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where did you see it before?”

“In my apartment.”

“When?”

“When Eleanor brought it to my apartment and again when I gave it to Perry Mason.”

“Do you wish the Court and the jury to understand that this is one of the articles of baggage that you gave Mr. Perry Mason?”

“It is. Yes, sir.”

“And it is the same bag that the defendant brought to your apartment?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I show you a suitcase. Do you recognize it?”

“Yes, sir, that is the suitcase she brought with her to the apartment and one of the articles I gave Mr. Mason.”

“And this two-suiter?”

“The same.”

“I ask they be introduced in evidence, Your Honor.”

“Any objection?” Judge Moran asked of Mason.

“Not to the bags, Your Honor. The contents have not been identified.”

“The bags are now empty,” Burger said with a smile. “I anticipated this objection by the defense.”

“Then I have no objection to the bags being received in evidence,” Mason said. “I feel certain they are the same bags the witness gave me.”

Burger whirled suddenly to Perry Mason and said, “And now you may cross-examine, sir.”

The district attorney walked over to the plaintiff’s counsel table and flung himself into his seat, grinning at the smiling faces of two assistant district attorneys who flanked him on each side.

“Did you,” Mason asked the district attorney, “intend to introduce that diagram in evidence?”

“I did.”

“You mentioned that there was another witness who would identify it as to the Granger apartment.”

“That is true.”

“If you have that witness here,” Mason said, “I would suggest that I defer my cross-examination of this witness until you have put this other witness on the stand, identified this diagram, and then I will be in a position to cross-examine the witness intelligently as to the position of the various rooms in the apartment.”

“Very well,” Hamilton Burger said. “Call Webley Richey. You may step down from the witness stand for a moment, Miss Belan. The testimony of Mr. Richey will be quite brief, and then you may resume the witness stand for cross-examination.”

“Yes, sir,” the witness said.

“Sit right here inside the rail,” Judge Moran instructed. “Mr. Mason will want to proceed with his cross-examination as soon as Mr. Richey has been asked a few questions, which I take it, Mr. District Attorney, are in the nature of routine.”

“That is right.”

“Come forward and be sworn, Mr. Richey,” Judge Moran said.

Mason, turning to look at the witness who was coming forward, said under his breath to Della Street, who was seated slightly behind him and to the right of the defendant, “Well, well, well, see who’s here. The supercilious clerk who high-hatted us.”

Richey came forward, was sworn, and gave his name, age, address and occupation to the court reporter, then looked up expectantly at the district attorney.

Hamilton Burger, his voice indicating to the jury that this was merely a matter of red tape brought about because of the annoying persistence of the defendant’s counsel, said, “Now as I understand it your name is Webley Richey and you are employed as a clerk at the Belinda Apartments.”

“Yes, sir.”

“How long have you been so employed?”

“Something over two years.”

“Are you familiar with the apartments on the third floor?”

“I am. Yes, sir.”

“Do you know the tenant of apartment 358, Miss Suzanne Granger?”

“I do. Yes, sir.”

“And Ethel Belan, the witness who has just testified?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you familiar with the floor plan of the various apartments occupied by Suzanne Granger and by Ethel Belan?”

“I am. Yes, sir.”

“I show you a diagram and ask you whether or not that diagram correctly designates the position of the various rooms in apartment 358 and in apartment 360?”

The witness glanced at the diagram and said, “It does. Yes, sir. The two apartments are identical except that the closet in one of the bedrooms in 360 is three and a half feet shorter than the other closets shown in this sketch map, otherwise the apartments are identical in plan.”

“This map is a floor plan. Is it made to scale?”

“It is. Yes, sir.”

“Who made it?”

“I did.”

“At whose request?”

“At yours, sir.”

“And it is a full, true and accurate descriptive diagram?”

“It is. Yes, sir.”

“I ask that it be introduced in evidence,” Hamilton Burger said. “That’s all.”

“Oh, just a moment,” Mason said. “I have a few questions on cross-examination.”

“But there can’t be any objection to the diagram,” Hamilton Burger said.

“I just want to find out a few things about the witness’s background,” Mason retorted.

“Very well, cross-examine,” Judge Moran said, his voice indicating that he would consider any lengthy cross-examination an imposition on the time of the Court and the jury.

Richey faced Mason with the same supercilious, somewhat patronizing manner which he had displayed when he was behind the desk at the Belinda Apartments.

“Do you remember when you first saw me in August of this year?” Mason asked.

“Yes, sir. Very well.”

“I asked for Miss Suzanne Granger, did I not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you told me that she was out and could not be reached?”

“That is correct.”

“I told you who I was and I told you I wanted to leave a message for her?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, just a moment, Your Honor,” Hamilton Burger said. “This is hardly proper cross-examination. This witness was produced only for the purpose of testifying to a floor plan of an apartment. That floor plan is quite obviously correct. Counsel has made no objection to it. This cross-examination is incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial. It calls for matters not covered on the direct examination, and it is entirely out of order. It is simply consuming time.”

“So it would seem,” Judge Moran said. “I am inclined to agree with the prosecution, Mr. Mason.”

“The object of this cross-examination,” Mason said, “is simply to show bias on the part of the witness.”

“But what good will that do since apparently there is no question as to the accuracy of the...”

Judge Moran caught himself just in time to keep from commenting on the evidence. He said somewhat testily, “Very well. Technically I believe you’re within your rights, Counselor. Proceed. The objection is overruled.”

“Let me ask this one question,” Mason said. “As soon as I asked for Suzanne Granger didn’t you step into a private glass-enclosed office, pick up a telephone and ring the apartment of Ethel Belan?”

Mason was unprepared for the expression of consternation which appeared on Richey’s face.

“I... I have occasion to call many of the apartments.”

Mason, suddenly realizing he had struck pay dirt, pressed on quickly. “I’m asking you did you or did you not at that particular time retire to your private office and call the apartment of Ethel Belan?”

“I... after all, Mr. Mason, I can’t be expected to remember every apartment that I call. I...”

“I am asking you,” Mason thundered, “whether or not at that particular time you did not retire to a glass-enclosed, private office and call the apartment of Ethel Belan? You can answer that question yes or no.”

“Provided, of course, he remembers the occasion and what he did on that occasion,” Hamilton Burger said, rushing to the witness’s rescue.

“I can’t remember,” Richey said, flashing a grateful glance at the district attorney.

Mason smiled. “You might have remembered,” he asked the witness, “if it hadn’t been for the prompting by the district attorney?”

“Your Honor,” Hamilton Burger protested, “I object to that question. It’s not proper cross-examination.”

“Well, I think the witness may answer it,” Judge Moran said. “The jury, of course, saw the demeanor of the witness, heard the question and answer. You may answer that question, Mr. Richey.”

“I... I can’t remember calling Ethel Belan’s apartment.”

“You can’t remember ever calling Ethel Belan’s apartment?” Mason asked.

“Oh, yes. Naturally I call many of the apartments. I guess I have called many of the apartments many times.”

“Then what do you mean by saying you can’t remember?”

“I can’t remember calling it on that particular occasion.”

“Do you remember stepping into the glass-enclosed office?”

“No.”

“Do you remember your conversation with me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember what you did immediately following that conversation?”

“No.”

“I will ask you,” Mason said, “if at any time on that day you talked with Ethel Belan on the telephone and told her that Mr. Perry Mason, an attorney, was in the building and that he was asking for Suzanne Granger? Now you can remember if you did that. Answer yes or no. Did you or didn’t you?”

“I... I don’t think I did.”

“Or did you use words having substantially that same meaning or effect?”

“I... I... I simply can’t remember, Mr. Mason.”

“Thank you,” Mason said. “That’s all. I will stipulate the diagram may be received in evidence. Now, as I understand it, Miss Belan is to take the stand for cross-examination.”

Richey left the stand. Ethel Belan returned to the stand, settled herself and glanced at Perry Mason as much as to say, “All right. Come on. See what you can do with me.”

“You’re absolutely certain that the defendant had a revolver while she was in your apartment?”

“Absolutely certain.”

“That it was a blued-steel revolver?”

“Yes.”

“That it was a .38 caliber revolver?”

“Yes.”

“In how many calibers are revolvers manufactured?” Mason asked.

“Why, I... I’m not an expert on guns. I don’t know.”

“What is the meaning of .38 caliber?” Mason asked. “What does it have reference to?”

“It’s the way they describe a gun.”

“Certainly it’s the way they describe a gun,” Mason said, “but what does it relate to? What does caliber mean?”

“It has something to do with the weight of the shells, doesn’t it?”

“With the weight of the bullet?”

“Yes.”

“In other words, a long, slender bullet would have a higher caliber than a short, thicker bullet if it weighed more?”

“Oh, Your Honor,” Hamilton Burger said, “I object to this as an attempt to mislead the witness. This is not proper cross-examination. The witness has not qualified as an expert, and...”

“The objection is overruled,” Judge Moran snapped. “The witness has described the revolver in the possession of the defendant as a .38 caliber revolver. Counsel is certainly entitled to find out what she means by .38 caliber.”

“Go ahead,” Mason said. “Answer the question.”

“Why, if the bullet, if the long, slender bullet weighs more, why, it is a bigger caliber, that is, I think it is.”

“That’s what you mean by caliber?” Mason said.

“Yes, sir.”

“So when you described the .38 caliber revolver, you referred to a revolver shooting a bullet of a certain weight. Is that right?”

“Oh, Your Honor, this is certainly assuming facts not in evidence,” Hamilton Burger said. “It is not proper cross-examination. It is an attempt to mislead the witness.”

“Overruled,” Judge Moran snapped. “Answer the question.”

The witness glanced dubiously at the district attorney, then after some hesitancy, said, “Yes, sir. I believe so. Yes, sir.”

“When you used the words .38 caliber you were describing only the weight of the bullet?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you mean that the bullet weighed 38 grains?”

“I believe that is it. Yes, sir.”

“You don’t know whether the gun was a .38 caliber, a .32 caliber, or a .44 caliber, do you?”

“Well, it was described to me as a .38 caliber revolver,” the witness said, obviously becoming confused.

“So you simply repeated the words that had been used to you. Is that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And when you said it was a .38 caliber revolver you didn’t know whether it was a .38 caliber revolver or a .32 caliber revolver or a .44 caliber revolver, did you?”

“Well, the district attorney told me...”

“Not what someone told you but what you know of your own knowledge,” Mason said. “Do you know?”

“Well, I guess, if you want to come right down to it, I’m a little hazy about what caliber means.”

“Then you don’t know whether the defendant had a .38 caliber revolver, a .32 caliber revolver or a .44 caliber revolver, do you?”

“Well, if you want to put it that way, I don’t,” the witness snapped.

Mason said, “That’s the way I want to put it. And now we’ll see if your recollection is any better than that of Webley Richey. Do you remember the occasion when Mr. Richey telephoned you and said that Perry Mason, the lawyer, was in the building, asking questions, that he was inquiring for Suzanne Granger but that there was a possibility he might be very suspicious of the facts, but that he, Richey, had got rid of Mason and you wouldn’t be bothered with him? Now those may not be the exact words, but I will express it as having been in words to that effect purely for the purpose of identifying the conversation. Do you remember the occasion of that conversation?”

She tilted her head back. Her chin came up. For a moment her eyes were defiant. Then, as she met the steady gaze of Mason’s eyes, saw the granite-hard lines of his face, she wavered, lowered her eyes and said, “Yes, I remember it.”

“Do you remember the date and the hour?”

“It was on the seventeenth day of August, sometime in the afternoon. I don’t remember exactly what time.”

“But you can place the time with reference to the time when I called on you,” Mason said. “It was immediately before, wasn’t it?”

“That depends on what you mean by immediately.”

“If you want to quibble,” Mason said, “we’ll say that it was within approximately ten or fifteen minutes of the time I called on you.”

“Well... oh, all right, have it your own way.”

“It isn’t my way, or your way, or Richey’s way,” Mason said. “It’s a question of what is the truth. That’s what the judge and the jury want to know.”

“Well, he called me and said something along those lines. Yes.”

“What is the connection between you and Richey?” Mason asked.

“Your Honor, I object to that as incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial, not proper cross-examination.”

Judge Moran hesitated for a moment, then said, “The objection is sustained.”

Mason, looking surprised and hurt so that the jury would be sure to note the expression on his face, sat down and turned to Della Street.

“I want to quit this cross-examination at a point where the jurors feel that my hands are being tied by Hamilton Burger’s objections and the Court’s rulings. I want them to feel that there is something important in this case that is being withheld from them, some sinister something in the background. I think this is a good time to quit. I’m whispering to you now so they’ll think I’m conferring with you on a point where we have a lot at stake.”

Della Street nodded.

“Now shake your head gravely,” Mason said.

She did as he instructed.

Mason sighed, made a little gesture of weary dismissal with his hands, said, “Well, of course, Your Honor, this is a part of the case which the defendant considered vital.”

He glanced down at Della Street again, shrugged his shoulders, said, “Very well, if that is the ruling of the Court I have no further questions.”

“The Court doesn’t intend to close any doors,” Judge Moran said, suddenly suspicious that Mason had jockeyed him into a position where there was error in the record. “You are at liberty to reframe the question.”

“Did you tell Webley Richey all about your agreement with the defendant?” Mason asked.

“Objected to as calling for hearsay evidence, as not proper cross-examination, as calling for matter which is incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial,” Burger said.

“I will permit the question on the ground that it may be preliminary as to the bias of the witness,” Judge Moran ruled.

“Answer the question,” Mason said.

“Well, in a way, yes.”

“And did he advise you?”

“Same objection,” Burger snapped.

Judge Moran’s fingertips moved slowly along the angle of his jaw. “What a third person may have told this witness is something else. You may answer the question yes or no — only as to whether he did advise you.”

“Yes.”

“What did he tell you?”

“Objected to, Your Honor. This is plainly hearsay, incompetent...”

“I think so. The objection is sustained,” Judge Moran said.

“Did you ask for and receive his advice prior to the date when the defendant was first taken into custody?”

Burger said doggedly, “I object on the ground that it is incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial, that the question is vague and indefinite and it is not proper cross-examination.”

Judge Moran debated the matter in his own mind. “Can you reframe your question, Mr. Mason?”

“No, Your Honor.”

Judge Moran glanced somewhat dubiously at the district attorney.

“I feel that my objection is well taken, Your Honor,” Hamilton Burger said. “I think it is quite obvious that counsel is merely on a fishing expedition. If there is any agreement in connection with the testimony in this case, any agreement in connection with the facts in this case, he can so specify.”

“My question is broad enough to include all of those things,” Mason said.

“Too broad,” Hamilton Burger retorted. “It covers everything. I contend, Your Honor, that the question is not proper cross-examination. I am quite willing to accept a ruling to that effect for the record.”

“Very well,” Judge Moran ruled. “The Court will sustain the objection.”

“That’s all,” Mason said.

“That’s all,” Hamilton Burger snapped.

The witness started to leave the stand, then Burger, with every appearance of sudden recollection, said, “Oh, no, it isn’t either. There’s one other matter. I should have brought this out on my direct examination. I beg pardon of Court and counsel. I overlooked the matter. One of my assistants has just called my attention to the oversight.”

“Very well, you may ask your question,” Judge Moran ruled.

Hamilton Burger faced the witness. “Did you at any time see the defendant in the possession of any articles other than this revolver — articles of some extraordinary value?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“She had a large number of precious stones.”

Hamilton Burger appeared excited. “Precious stones, did you say?”

“That’s right.”

The jurors were now sitting forward on their chairs, watching the witness with fascination.

“Where were you when you saw these?” Burger asked.

“I had started to go into her bedroom. The door was slightly ajar. The hinges had been well oiled. She didn’t hear me.”

“And what was she doing?”

“She had a pile of gem stones on some paper tissues on the bed. She was kneeling by the bed. Her back was to me. She was counting the gems.”

“How many gems?”

“Quite a number.”

“Did she know you had seen her?”

“No, sir. I backed out as soon as I realized I was intruding. I gently closed the door and she never realized...”

“Never mind what she did or didn’t realize,” Burger interrupted. “You’re not a mind reader. You saw those stones?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You don’t know what became of those gems?”

“No, sir.”

“But you did see them in the defendant’s possession?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And for all you know these stones could have been contained in the luggage you delivered to Perry Mason?”

“Objected to as argumentative, assuming a fact not in evidence, leading and suggestive and utterly incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial,” Mason said.

“Sustained.”

“Cross-examine,” Hamilton Burger snapped.

Mason hesitated a long moment, said to Della Street, “There’s a trap here, Della, but I’m going to have to face it. He’s making it appear I am afraid to have the facts brought out about those gems, that I’m keeping things from the jury. Well, here we go.”

Mason slowly rose from his seat at the counsel table, walked over to the corner of the table and stood looking at the witness.

“You stood in the door of the room?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And saw these gems on the bed?”

“Yes.”

“A distance of how many feet?”

“Perhaps ten feet.”

“You saw they were gems?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What kind?”

“Diamonds and emeralds and a few rubies.”

“How many real gems have you ever owned in your life?” Mason asked.

“I... well, I have some chip diamonds.”

“Were these chip diamonds?”

“No.”

“How many full-cut diamonds have you ever owned?”

The witness averted her eyes.

“How many?” Mason asked.

“None,” she confessed.

“How many genuine rubies have you ever owned?”

“One. That is, it was given to me. I... I supposed it was genuine.”

“How long did you have it in your possession?”

“I still have it.”

“When was it given to you?”

“Ten years ago.”

“Is it genuine?”

“I have assumed that it is. I tell you, Mr. Mason, that it was given to me and so I don’t know. I have assumed it is a genuine ruby.”

“How about these rubies on the bed,” Mason asked, “were they genuine rubies, costume jewelry or imitations?”

“They were rubies.”

“Genuine?”

“Yes, sir. At least that is my impression. I am testifying now to the best of my ability.”

“Exactly,” Mason said. “And you have gone over your testimony many times with the district attorney?”

“I have told him what happened. I haven’t gone over my testimony.”

“You have told him what you expected to testify to?”

“Well, in a way.”

“You have told him everything that happened, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And you have told him that those were genuine rubies?”

“Yes.”

“You were within ten feet of them?”

“Yes.”

“No closer than that?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“How long were you standing in the door?”

“Perhaps for ten seconds.”

“Now this ruby that you own. How is that mounted? Is it in a ring?”

“Yes.”

“The ruby is perhaps your birthstone?”

“Yes.”

“And there is a certain sentimental attachment in connection with that particular ruby?”

“Yes.”

“And you have worn it and looked at it many times?”

“Yes.”

“Within a matter of inches from your eyes?”

“Yes.”

“And yet,” Mason said, “you still don’t know whether that ruby is genuine. Yet you want this jury to believe that you could stand ten feet away and look at an assortment of gems for not more than ten seconds and unhesitatingly testify that each and every one of the gems was genuine. Is that right?”

“Well, I... of course, when you put it that way it sounds absurd.”

“It sounds absurd because it is absurd,” Mason said. “You aren’t an expert on gems.”

“No, but you can tell whether gems are genuine or not.”

“How?”

“Well, you know instinctively. You can tell from the way they sparkle.”

“But you didn’t know instinctively about this ruby that you’ve possessed for ten years. You simply assume it’s genuine. You don’t know whether it’s a synthetic ruby or an imitation ruby or what it is.”

“Well, I... it was different from the rubies that I saw there.”

“In what way?”

“Those rubies had more fire.”

“Then you assume that this gem you have been familiar with for ten years is not genuine, that it is an imitation of some sort, a synthetic?”

“I don’t know.”

“How many gems were there on the bed?”

“I would say, oh, perhaps fifty.”

“There could have been more?”

“There certainly could. There might have been as many as seventy-five.”

“If you had seventy-five gems to inspect in ten seconds you must have inspected them at the rate of better than seven a second. Isn’t that true?”

“I suppose so.”

“You know, do you not, that it takes an expert jeweler many seconds of examination with a magnifying glass to tell whether a gem is genuine or not?”

“Well, I suppose so.”

“Yet you, without any knowledge of gems, without ever having possessed genuine gems, with the exception of one ruby that you don’t know is genuine, want to put yourself in the position of swearing absolutely that you looked at from fifty to seventy-five stones ten feet away in a period of ten seconds, and are willing to pronounce each and every one of them genuine?”

“I didn’t say that. I can’t pronounce each and every one of them genuine.”

“How many of them were spurious?”

“I don’t know.”

“What percentage of them was spurious?”

“I don’t know.”

“How many of them were genuine?”

“I don’t know.”

“Was one of them genuine?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Were two of them genuine?”

“I tell you I don’t know.”

“Exactly,” Mason said. “You don’t know whether any of them was genuine or not, do you?”

“I think they were.”

“You knew instinctively, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“You simply saw them as a glittering pile of gems?”

“Yes.”

“That’s all,” Mason said, smiling at the jury.

Hamilton Burger came forward, a triumphant smirk on his face.

“Now assuming for the sake of this question that Douglas Hepner was killed on the sixteenth of August at about five o’clock in the afternoon, did you see these gems before or after his death?”

“Objected to as incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial, argumentative evidence,” Mason said angrily. “I assign the asking of that question as prejudicial misconduct and ask the Court to advise the jury to disregard it.”

Judge Moran’s face was stern. “The objection is sustained. The jury will disregard the question.”

“Very well,” Hamilton Burger said. “When did you see these gems?”

“On the sixteenth of August.”

“At what time?”

“At about six o’clock in the evening.”

“That’s all.”

“No further questions,” Mason said.

“That’s all,” Hamilton Burger said. “We will now call Miss Suzanne Granger to the stand.”

Suzanne Granger came forward and was sworn.

“You are the Suzanne Granger who occupies apartment 358 in the Belinda Apartments?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is that Mrs. or Miss Granger?”

“Miss.”

“You are living alone in an apartment there?”

“Yes.”

“You have been to Europe on several occasions?”

“I am interested in art. I spend what time and what money I can afford in European museums studying pigmentation, the work of the old masters, and gathering data which I do not care to reveal in advance of the book I am writing on the subject.”

“You recently returned from Europe?”

“I did.”

“And while you were on shipboard did you meet Douglas Hepner?”

“That is right.”

“Now you became friendly with Douglas Hepner?”

“There was a shipboard friendship, yes.”

“And then what happened?”

“Then I didn’t see Douglas for... oh, a few weeks and then I happened to run into him and he asked me for a date and...”

“Now when was this that he asked you for a date?”

“That was during the latter part of July.”

“And then what?”

“I went out to dinner with him two or three times and he told me...”

“Now I don’t think we’re entitled to have his conversation introduced in evidence,” Hamilton Burger said with a great show of legal virtue, “but I think you can testify as to the relationship which developed.”

“Well, he became friendly to the extent of confiding in me.”

“You were out with him several times?”

“That’s right.”

“And at times he returned with you to your apartment?”

“Naturally he saw me home.”

“And came into your apartment for a nightcap?”

“That’s right. I invited him in as a matter of common courtesy and he always accepted.”

“Now then,” Hamilton Burger said, “we are somewhat handicapped by not being able to show the conversations which took place, but I will ask you if on occasion Douglas Hepner discussed the defendant, Eleanor Corbin, with you?”

“Indeed he did.”

“Now, of course,” Hamilton Burger said, “I feel that we are not entitled to bring those conversations into evidence except that I will ask you if at any time during any of those conversations he ever referred to Eleanor Corbin as his wife?”

“Indeed he did not. In fact, on the contrary he...”

“Never mind, never mind,” Hamilton Burger said, holding up his hand, palm outward, as though he were a traffic officer flagging down oncoming traffic. “I want to keep the examination within strictly legal limits. Since it was claimed that the defendant was his wife I am simply asking you whether he ever referred to her as his wife. You have said he did not. That answers the question. Now then, I am going to ask you about something that is proper. Did you ever have a conversation with the defendant about Douglas Hepner?”

“I did. Yes, sir.”

“And when was that?”

“That was about the fifteenth of August.”

“And what was said?”

“I... well, Douglas had been calling on me and then when he left I noticed that the door of apartment 360 opened just a crack so that the defendant could watch him as he walked down the hall and...”

“How did you know it was the defendant who was watching?”

“Because... well, because I knew she had moved in with Ethel Belan for the purpose of spying...”

“Never mind the purpose,” Burger interrupted, “that’s a conclusion of the witness. Your Honor, I ask that the witness be instructed to confine her answers to the question and not volunteer information.”

“Very well,” the witness said with hostility. “I knew that the defendant had moved in with Ethel Belan. I knew that on almost every occasion that Douglas left my apartment the door would open. Since there would have been no way of knowing exactly when he was going unless she had some means of listening in on conversations I knew what was happening.”

“And on this particular occasion what happened?”

“As soon as Douglas had entered the elevator and before she had a chance to close the door I walked over and pushed the door open.”

“And who was standing on the other side of the door?”

“Eleanor Corbin.”

“You mean the defendant in this action?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That is the woman sitting beside Mr. Perry Mason, there at the defense counsel table?”

“Yes.”

“Go ahead, tell us what happened.”

“I told the defendant she was making a fool of herself. I said, ‘You can’t hold a man that way. You’re just a jealous, frustrated fool, and furthermore I want you to quit listening to what goes on in my apartment. I’m not going to have you or anyone else listening in on my private conversations. I think there’s a law against that, and if I have to I’m going to do something about it.’ ”

“And what did the defendant say?”

“The defendant became furious. She told me that I was a tramp, that I was trying to steal Douglas away from her, that like all men he was an opportunist and that I was deliberately providing an opportunity.”

“Did she say anything at that time about being married to Douglas Hepner?”

“She said she wanted to marry him. She said that if she couldn’t have him nobody would have him.”

“Did she make any threats?”

“Oh, I don’t remember all that she said. Yes, of course, she made threats. She threatened to kill both him and me. She said that she would kill Douglas if I tried to take him away from her — something to the effect that if she couldn’t have him no one else could.”

“Was anyone else present at that conversation?”

“Just the two of us were actually present at the time.”

“Did the defendant say anything about how she proposed to carry out her threats?”

“Yes, indeed. She opened her purse. She showed me a revolver and said she was a desperate woman and that it wasn’t safe to trifle with her, or words to that effect.”

“What did she have in her purse?”

“A revolver.”

“I call your attention to Plaintiff’s Exhibit G and ask you if you have ever seen that revolver before?”

“I don’t know. I’ve seen one that looks very much like it.”

“Where?”

“In the defendant’s handbag.”

“And what happened after this conversation?”

“I turned around and went back into my apartment.”

“I think,” Hamilton Burger said, “you may now cross-examine this witness, Mr. Mason.”

And Burger went back and seated himself at his counsel table, smiling to himself, his face radiating complete self-satisfaction.

Mason said, “You instituted this conversation, did you, Miss Granger?”

“You mean I took the initiative in bringing it about?”

“Yes.”

“I most certainly did. I was tired of being spied upon and I intended to put a stop to it.”

“Did anyone else hear this conversation? Was Miss Belan present?”

“Miss Belan was away. The defendant was alone in the apartment.”

“In other words,” Mason said, smiling easily, “it’s only your word against hers. You...”

“I am not accustomed to having my word doubted,” Suzanne Granger said indignantly.

“The point, however, is that no one else heard this conversation,” Mason said.

“In that you are wrong,” she retorted acidly. “I was the only other person present but Mr. Richey overheard the conversation and later remonstrated with me about it. He said that this was a high-class apartment house and people didn’t have brawls...”

“Never mind what someone else said to you,” Mason said. “That is hearsay. I am asking you if anyone else was present at that conversation.”

“Mr. Richey was in an adjoining apartment. The door was open and he heard the entire conversation.”

“That’s all,” Mason said.

“Just a minute,” Hamilton Burger said. “You didn’t tell me about Mr. Richey having heard the conversation.”

“You didn’t ask me.”

“After all,” Mason said, “it’s a conclusion as far as this witness is concerned. She doesn’t know that Richey heard the conversation.”

“Well, he certainly came to me afterward and remonstrated with me about...”

“There, there, that will do,” Hamilton Burger said. “Your Honor, this opens up a very interesting phase of this case that I hadn’t known about before. Why didn’t you tell me, Miss Granger?”

“Tell you about what?”

“About the fact that someone else was present at this conversation?”

“He wasn’t present. He only heard it. And besides I’m not accustomed to having my word doubted.”

“But this is a court of law,” Hamilton Burger said.

She gave her head a little toss and said, “I told you what happened and I told the truth.”

“Very well,” Hamilton Burger said. “That’s all.”

The district attorney glanced at the clock, said, “Your Honor, I know it is early but I think the prosecution will rest its case within the next few minutes after court reconvenes. However, there are certain points I would like to check over with my associates to make certain that I have introduced all of the evidence that I desire to produce at this time. I think the Court will agree that the case is moving very expeditiously and, of course, the Court will realize that a prosecutor is always faced with a problem at such a time as to what evidence is legitimately a part of his case in chief and what should be saved for rebuttal. I feel, therefore, that I am justified in asking the Court to recess at this time until two o’clock this afternoon so that I may check over my evidence. I feel certain that the prosecution will rest its case not later than two-thirty.”

“Very well,” Judge Moran ruled. “Court will take a recess until two o’clock this afternoon, predicated on the statement of the district attorney that he expects to rest his case by two-thirty.”

Mason turned to the policewoman who was approaching to take charge of the defendant. “I want to talk with the defendant a little while,” he said. “I would like to go into the witness room.”

“Very well, Mr. Mason,” she said. “It’s early, so I can give you fifteen or twenty minutes.”

“I think that will be enough,” Mason said.

He nodded to Della Street, and said to Eleanor, “Please step this way, Mrs. Hepner.”

Eleanor followed him into the witness room.

Mason kicked the door closed.

“All right,” he said, “this is it.”

“What is?”

“Quit stalling,” Mason said. “They’ve jerked the rug out from under you. Now I’m not a magician. This is the time when I have to know what happened. The district attorney is going to rest his case at two-thirty this afternoon. He has a perfect case of first-degree murder. If you don’t go on the stand you’re licked. If you do go on the stand and testify to this amnesia business they’ll rip you wide open. If you admit that telephone conversation with Ethel Belan you’re a gone goose. It shows your amnesia is just a dodge.

“If you deny that conversation the district attorney probably has switchboard records from the hospital to show that you called Ethel Belan’s number. You must have slipped the call through while the nurse was out of the room.

“He also has a bunch of psychiatrists who have examined you and will swear your loss of memory is merely a defensive pose. Now then, I have to know the facts.”

“You've lied to me. It's probably too late to do anything now, but at least I have to know the truth.”

She avoided his eyes. “Why did he want an adjournment at this time?” she asked.

“Because,” he said, “he wants to check with Richey and see if Richey overheard that conversation. If Richey did and if his recollection coincides with that of Suzanne Granger’s he’s going to put Richey on the stand. Otherwise, he’ll fumble around with a few platitudes and state that after checking with his associates he feels that they have introduced all of the evidence they care to in chief and that the balance of evidence will be saved for rebuttal, that therefore the prosecution rests its case.”

“You think I’m not telling the truth about not being able to remember, don’t you, Mr. Mason?”

Mason shrugged his shoulders and said, “It’s your funeral, and,” he added, “I mean that literally. It will be your funeral. They can return a verdict that will mean you’re strapped into the little steel chair in a small, glass-windowed cubbyhole. Then everyone will withdraw. The door will clang shut and you’ll hear the clank of an iron gate as the cyanide pellets are dropped into the acid. Then you’ll hear a little hissing and...”

“Don’t!” she screamed. “Don’t do that to me. Good God, don’t you suppose I’ve sweated through this thing in a nightmare night after night?”

“I’m telling you now,” Mason said, “because this is the last time. This is the last opportunity anyone has to help you. Now then, you go ahead. It’s your move.”

Eleanor glanced at Della Street. Her glance was that of a trapped animal.

“Want a cigarette?” Della asked.

Eleanor nodded.

Della gave her a cigarette and lit it for her. Eleanor took in a deep breath. She exhaled a cloud of smoke, said, “It’s so damn bad, Mr. Mason, that if I tell it to you you’ll walk out on me.”

“Tell it to me,” Mason said.

“It’s the truth,” she said.

“What is?”

“What they’ve been saying.”

“The story the witnesses have been telling?”

She nodded.

“You killed him?” Mason asked.

“I didn’t kill him, but what good is it going to do for me to say so?”

“Suppose,” Mason said kindly, “you start at the beginning and tell me the truth, but condense it into a capsule because we aren’t going to have much time. I’ll ask you questions about the parts I want you to elaborate.”

She said, “I’ve always been rather wild. I’ve been in a few scrapes in my time. My father is conservative. He values his good name, his standing in the community and things of that sort.

“Coming over from Europe I met Douglas Hepner. Father didn’t like him. One thing led to another. Father told me that if I married Doug Hepner I was finished as fax as any financial connection with the family was concerned. He had been paying me a rather generous allowance but he’d threatened to stop it several times, and this time he really meant business.”

“Go on,” Mason said. “What happened?”

“Doug and I were in love — not so much on shipboard, that was one of those shipboard affairs. He was pretty much in demand as a dancing partner and... well, I thought it was a shipboard crush, but it wasn’t. It was the real thing as far as I’m concerned and I supposed it was with him.”

“Go on,” Mason said.

“All right, it began to be serious and we talked a lot about getting married. Dad told me that if I married Doug I might just as well wash my hands of the family.”

“Did Hepner tell you what his occupation was — how he made a living?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“The last few weeks — when we were talking about getting married. He told me a lot of things about himself. He’d been a rolling stone. He was an adventurer and an opportunist. He’d gone in for this stuff that he called being a free-lance detective. He was finding out about smuggled stones and getting a reward.”

“Go on,” Mason said.

“Well, this Suzanne Granger — I hate that woman.”

“Never mind that,” Mason said. “You haven’t time for that. Go on, tell me what happened.”

“Well, anyhow, Doug got the idea that Suzanne Granger was the head of a huge smuggling ring. Don’t ask me how he got the idea because I don’t know. I don’t know what evidence he had.”

“Did he work hand in glove with the Customs people?” Mason asked. “Perhaps they tipped him off.”

“No, I don’t think so. The Customs people had absolutely no suspicion of Suzanne Granger. They let her breeze through Customs with as much deference as though she’d been a visiting potentate. She’s one of those queenly, aristocratic women who always want to be better than the other person, want to get the other person on the defensive.”

Mason said, “Try and forget how much you hate her and give me the facts and give them to me fast.”

“Well, Doug said that if he could break up that smuggling ring Suzanne was in he could make enough from the reward to buy an interest in an importing company. He knew of one he could pick up cheap from a friend of his, and with his knowledge and connections he could build it up to something really big.”

“He thought Suzanne Granger was a smuggler?”

“Either she was the big smuggler or she had the contact. I think he thought she was the big smuggler.”

“So what did he do?”

“He told me that he’d have to be free to date Suzanne. He said he wouldn’t get too involved with her, he’d just date her and sound her out so he could get access to her apartment. He told me that he was going to have associates search her apartment. In order to do that he had to be sure. He wanted to be where he could listen to what went on in her apartment. He had a listening device, some sort of a microphone with electronic amplification that he could press against the wall of the bedroom in Ethel’s apartment and hear everything that went on in Suzanne Granger’s apartment.

“So he and I worked out this plan. I was to pose as a jealous, frustrated woman. I made a deal with Ethel Belan to get into her apartment.

“Well, somehow something happened and Suzanne Granger learned that I was in the adjoining apartment. I don’t know how, but Doug knew. I guess she must have told Doug I was in there snooping.”

“So then what?”

“So then Doug told me to plan on leaving the apartment for long periods of time. In that way Suzanne Granger would think the coast was clear and she would go on making her plans to dispose of the smuggled stones.

“The man who runs the freight elevator hates the snobs in the front office and Doug bribed him. In that way Doug could ride up in the freight elevator without anyone knowing about it.

“So what would happen, Ethel would leave and go to work. She works as some sort of a buyer in a department store. After she’d gone I’d put on my things and go out in the hallway, making a lot of noise, then I’d take the elevator down and walk right past the desk. I was there as a guest, not as a tenant, but I’d contrive to let the girl at the switchboard know I expected to be out all day. Then I’d go out and usually stay out.”

“And Douglas would move in?”

She nodded. “He’d go up in the freight elevator and take over.”

“But he could have gone to Suzanne Granger’s apartment.”

“If he wanted to he could have.”

“And for all you know, he did.”

“Well, if he’d been doing that why would he have asked me to get in Ethel Belan’s apartment in the first place?”

Mason thought that over.

“He had a key?” he asked.

“Of course he had a key. I gave him my key long enough to have a duplicate key made. If you’ll examine the keys that he had on him at the time of his death I’m certain you’ll find that one of the keys fits Ethel Belan’s apartment.”

“The police don’t know that?” Mason asked.

“Apparently so far the police don’t know it.”

“And, of course, Ethel Belan had no idea that Doug was using her apartment as a listening post to monitor what went on in Suzanne Granger’s apartment.”

“No, of course not, that’s why Douglas was supposed to be hot and heavy after Suzanne and I was supposed to be there eating my heart out and listening and trying to catch them out.

“We had to play it that way because Ethel’s a rattlebrained little biddy who would have spilled the beans if she’d had any inkling of what was going on.

“Even as it was, Ethel Belan began to be a little suspicious. She thought that Doug had been visiting me in the apartment while she was out and wondered if my jealousy wasn’t an act trying to cover up something. She talked a little bit to Suzanne Granger and Doug got terribly afraid that Suzanne was smart enough to put two and two together.

“So Doug told me to arrange a scene where I was to goad Suzanne into saying something to me, then I was to open my purse and show her my gun and make threats against everybody and everything and put on the act of a jealous woman, the neurotic type who can be dangerous.

“Well, I did that and it worked. I don’t know just what happened because within half an hour of the time we had that scene Doug doubled back to the apartment and put the listening device on and listened and seemed to be tickled to death with what he heard. He told me that he thought he knew the answer. He told me to let him have my gun and go out and that he’d get in touch with me later on.”

“And you gave him your gun?”

“Of course,” she said. “I’d give him anything he asked for.”

“You weren’t married, were you?”

“We were going to be married as soon as...”

“But you weren’t married!”

“Doug said we’d have to wait, but on that trip to Yuma and Las Vegas we traveled as man and wife.”

“Why did you say you were married?”

“Doug said it was like a common law marriage and he told me to wire the family from Yuma. We didn’t want any fuss.”

“And the car wreck?” Mason asked.

“That was a fib. I made that up.”

“But his car was smashed.”

“I know. That’s where I got the idea of the wreck. I had to have something to use for an excuse to account for my loss of memory.”

“When did his car get smashed?”

“Sunday evening — the night before he died. A big truck rounded a curve and came straight for him. It’s a wonder Doug wasn’t killed. That’s what the truck driver was trying to do.

“You see, this is a regular smuggling gang and... well, they play dirty. I wanted Doug to quit then because it showed they were after him. That’s when I gave him the gun. He promised he would if he couldn’t crack the case within a couple more days, but he thought he was on the point of making a big stake that would get us started in this new business.”

“You gave him your gun when he asked for it and what did you do?”

“I went out.”

“And when did you come back?”

She lowered her eyes. “Later.”

“How much later?”

“Quite a bit later.”

“Was Doug there when you came back?”

“No.”

“Was Ethel Belan?”

“No, she was away for the week end and wasn’t coming back until Monday.”

“Now what about those gems?” Mason asked. “How did you get them?”

“Mr. Mason, you’ve got to believe me. That story about the gems is absolutely completely cockeyed. I never had any gems. I never saw any gems. She’s lying when she says she saw me with those gems.”

Mason’s eyes were cold. “You didn’t conceal them anywhere in your baggage?”

“Don’t be silly, Mr. Mason. I’m telling you the truth now.”

“You’ve told me that before.”

“On my word of honor.”

“You’ve said that before too.”

“You just have to believe me.”

“I can’t believe you,” Mason said. “There’s too much corroborative evidence against you. I’ve got to fight this case through. They’ve got you dead to rights. They’ve caught you in a whole series of lies. They have proven that Doug Hepner was killed with your gun, that within a very short time prior to his death you had stated that he was your boy friend, that Suzanne Granger was stealing him, that if you couldn’t have him nobody else could, and that you’d kill him rather than give him up.”

“I know,” she said, “but I’ve tried to tell you... that was what Doug told me to say, that was an act I was putting on at his request.”

“There’s only one person who can save you from the death cell by corroborating your story on that,” Mason said.

“Who’s that?”

“Doug Hepner, and he’s dead. If you’re telling the truth you put yourself in the power of fate when you told that story, and if you’re not telling the truth...”

“But I am, Mr. Mason. I’m telling you the absolute truth.”

“You’re lying about those gems.”

“I’m not, Mr. Mason.”

“But suppose they should find those gems — perhaps in your baggage?”

“Well, I guess I’d be on my way to the gas chamber. It would be the final corroboration of Ethel Belan’s story that would... it would make people think, that Doug had recovered gems and I’d stolen them from Doug and... well, it would just be a mess that nobody could get out of.”

“You’re in a mess now,” Mason said, “and I don’t see how anyone can get you out of it.”

“Can’t I tell them the truth? Can’t I tell them that Doug told me to put on that act? Can’t I tell them that Doug was sort of a detective for the Customs officials? Can’t we bring on the Customs officials to corroborate that? Can’t we at least insinuate that Suzanne Granger was a smuggler?

“I understand that while she was gone on a trip to Las Vegas her apartment was broken into and all the tubes of paint were cut open. Couldn’t she have had gems in the tubes of paint?”

“She could have,” Mason said. “Who accompanied Suzanne to Las Vegas?”

“That’s something I don’t know.”

“But if we do that,” Mason said, “and if we should by any strange chance get anyone on the jury to believe us, then that story told by Ethel Belan about you having that assortment of gems in your possession would make it appear that you were the one who had gone into the apartment and cut open the tubes of paint, that you were the one who had recovered the gems, that you had tried to hold out on Douglas Hepner, and that had resulted in a fight and that you had killed Hepner.”

“But she’s lying about the gems.”

“All right, let’s pass that for a moment,” Mason said wearily. “Now I want the real story of why you were running around in the park in the moonlight, making come-hither gestures to masculine motorists...”

“But I wasn’t, Mr. Mason. I was appealing for help. I was trying to get the woman to follow me.”

“It didn’t look that way,” Mason said. “When the woman followed you, you started screaming and...”

“She didn’t follow me, she was chasing me. She was chasing me with a jack handle.”

“Well, why did you want her to follow you?” Mason asked.

“I wanted her to find Doug’s body.”

“You what?” Mason asked, his voice showing his utter incredulity.

“I wanted her to find Doug’s body. I was going to lead her to it.”

“You knew that Doug was there, dead?”

“Yes, of course.”

“How did you know that?”

“Because Doug and I had a rendezvous there in the park. Whenever anything happened and we got signals mixed or we wanted to communicate with each other we’d meet there at that place in the park.

“When I went there this night, Doug was lying there dead and my gun was right there beside him.”

“Well,” she said, “of course it was a terrific shock to me, but... well, instantly I saw the spot I was in, Mr. Mason. I had been trapped into making that statement to Suzanne only the day before — understand, when I say I was trapped, I mean that events had trapped me. I don’t mean that Doug had anything to do with it.

“But there I was. I’d sworn that I was going to kill Doug and that if I couldn’t have him no one else would and all of that stuff and I’d exhibited my gun — and, of course, it was my gun. I’d had it in my possession and then I’d given it to Doug when he asked for it. Someone must have followed him there to the park where he went to meet me, overpowered him, pulled the gun out of his pocket and shot him in the back of the head.

“There was his body lying there, with my gun beside it. I simply didn’t know what to do.”

“I can well imagine,” Mason said dryly. “Now tell us what you did do, and for once try telling the truth.”

“I picked up the gun and carried it over to where I could bury it. I was terribly afraid that they’d pick me up while I had the gun in my possession. I knew that every minute, every second that I had that gun in my possession I was in a very, very vulnerable position.

“I finally found a place where I could bury it where a ground squirrel or something had dug down in the ground. I shoved it way down in this hole and then kicked dirt in on top of it and put dry leaves and sticks over the top of the ground so I didn’t think there was one chance in a million anyone could find it.”

“And then?” Mason asked.

“Then I knew that I was in a spot. I didn’t know what to do and I was in a panic. When you get in a panic like that you just can’t think clearly.”

“What did you think you were trying to do?”

“Well, I felt that if I should be found out there in the park without any clothes on, I could tell a story about having been out there with Doug and having been assaulted by a strange man who killed Doug and attempted to rape me, that I fought my way clear and was wandering around in a semi-dazed condition.”

“Go on,” Mason said.

“So I rushed back to the apartment,” she said, “took my clothes and literally tore them off of me. Then I borrowed one of Ethel’s raincoats and walked over to the park. I kicked up a bunch of the ground as though there’d been a struggle and left the clothes scattered around. Then I hid the raincoat and went out across the park until I saw a car that was parked. Then I came toward it, making motions to the woman. I felt that I should act as though I were too modest to come out where the man could see me. I was appealing for feminine help and... well, you know what happened. The woman started after me with a jack handle thinking I was being promiscuous and trying to vamp her boy friend. I ran, and I guess I was screaming, and managed to get away from her.

“Then I realized I was in a devil of a mess. I couldn’t make the same approach again and I thought I’d just better go back to the apartment and try something else. So I picked up my clothes and wadded them into a small bundle and stuffed them down another ground squirrel hole and put earth on them and...”

“Where are they now?” Mason asked.

“As far as I know they’re in that same ground squirrel hole.”

“Then what?”

“Then I picked up this raincoat where I’d hidden it, where I felt certain it wouldn’t be found, put it on and started back to Ethel’s apartment and... well, that’s when fate started taking a hand in the game. That’s when everything I did went wrong. Police picked me up and I just didn’t know what to say. I certainly was in a position where I needed time to stall.

“I’d been in a jam once before and had pulled this business about a loss of memory and a friendly doctor had helped me along with it and I’d got by very nicely. I felt that that would establish something in the way of a precedent, that I could show I had these attacks of amnesia and... well, that’s what I did.”

Mason said, “Eleanor, do you expect anyone on earth to believe that story?”

She avoided his eyes for a moment, then looked at him.

“No,” she admitted, “not now.”

“If you get on the stand and try to tell that story to the jury,” Mason said, “the district attorney will rip you up with cross-examination, he’ll show that you’ve lied before, time and time again, he’ll show the utter, weird improbability of that story, and he’ll convict you of first-degree murder.”

“As I see it,” she said, looking him squarely in the eyes, “it’s all a question of whether we can shake Ethel Belan’s story about me having those gems. If I had them then, of course, people will think that I recovered the gems while Suzanne Granger was in Las Vegas, and that because I was having a fight with Doug or something of that sort I tried to keep them all and Doug and I quarreled.”

“Exactly,” Mason said dryly. “On rebuttal or cross-examination it’s going to come out what Doug Hepner actually did for a living. The district attorney has been holding back on that. If you take the stand he’ll crucify you with it on cross-examination. If you don’t take the stand he’ll bring it out if I put on any evidence at all.”

“But if you don’t put on any evidence at all then he can’t bring it out, can he?”

“If I don’t put on any evidence at all,” Mason said, “he won’t need to.”

“Well, I’ve told you the truth. That’s all I can do.”

“This is your last chance to tell the whole truth.”

“I’ve told it.”

Mason got to his feet. “Come on, Della,” he said.

At the door he nodded to the policewoman. “That’s all.”