Mr. Carlatti puts up his dukes as the bailiff approaches, roaring: “Where’s my mouthpiece? This ain’t Nazzee Goimany!”
* * *
When Nora took the oath and sat down and began to testify in a choked voice, the court was like a church. She was the priestess, and the people listened to her with the silent unease of a sinning congregation confronted by their sins . . . Surely the woman Jim Haight had tried to do in would be against him?
But Nora was not against Jim. She was for him, every cell in her. Her loyalty filled the courtroom like warm air.
She made a superb witness, defending her husband from every charge. She reiterated her love for him and her unquestioning faith in his innocence. Over and over. While her eyes kept coming back to the object of her testimony, those scant few feet away, who sat with his face lowered, wearing a dull red mask of shame, blinking at the tips of his unpolished shoes.
The idiot might be more cooperative! thought Mr. Queen angrily.
Nora could give no factual evidence to controvert the People’s case. Judge Martin, who had put her on the stand for her psychological value, did not touch upon the two poisoning attempts preceding New Year’s Eve; and in a genuine act of kindness, Carter Bradford waived cross-examination and the opportunity to quiz her on those attempts. Perhaps Bradford felt he would lose more in goodwill by grilling Nora than by letting her go.
Mr. Queen, a notorious skeptic, could not be sure.
* * *
Nora was to have been Judge Martin’s last witness; and indeed he was fumbling with some papers at the defense table, as if undecided whether to proceed or not, when Pat signaled him furiously from inside the railing, and the old gentleman nodded with a guilty, unhappy look and said: “I call Patricia Wright to the stand.”
Mr. Queen sat forward in the grip of a giant tension he could not understand.
Obviously at a loss where to begin, Judge Martin began a cautious reconnaissance, as if seeking a clue. But Pat took the reins out of his hands almost at once. She was irrepressible?deliberately, Ellery knew; but why? What was she driving at?
As a defense witness, Pat played squarely into the hands of the People.
The more she said, the more damage she did to Jim’s cause. She painted her brother-in-law as a scoundrel, a liar?told how he had humiliated Nora, stolen her jewelry, squandered her property, neglected her, subjected her to mental torment, quarreled with her incessantly . . .
Before she was half through, the courtroom was sibilating. Judge Martin was perspiring like a coolie and trying frantically to head her off, Nora was gaping at her sister as if she were seeing her for the first time, and Hermy and John F. slumped lower and lower in their seats, like two melting waxworks.
Judge Newbold interrupted Pat during a denunciation of Jim and an avowal of her hatred for him.
“Miss Wright, are you aware that you were called as a witness for the defense?”
Pat snapped: “I’m sorry. Your Honor. But I can’t sit here and see all this hush-hush going on when we all know Jim Haight is guilty?”
“I move?” began Judge Martin in an outraged bellow.
“Young woman?” began Judge Newbold angrily.
But Pat rushed on. ”And that’s what I told Bill Ketcham only last night?”
“Whatr The explosion came from Judge Newbold, Eli Martin, and Carter Bradford simultaneously. And for a moment the room was plunged in an abyss of surprise; and then the walls cracked, and Bedlam piled upon Babel, so that Judge Newbold pounded with his third gavel of the trial, and the bailiff ran up and down shushing people, and in the press row someone started to laugh as realization came, infecting the whole row, and the row behind that.
“Your Honor,” said Judge Martin above the din, “I want it to go on record here and now that the statement made by my witness a moment ago comes to me as an absolute shock. I had no faintest idea that?”
“Just a moment, just a moment, Counsel,” said Judge Newbold in a strangled voice. ”Miss Wright!”
“Yes, Your Honor?” asked Patty in a bewildered way, as if she couldn’t imagine what all the fuss was about.
“Did I hear you correctly? Did you say you told
“Why, yes, Your Honor,” said Pat respectfully. ”And Bill agreed with me?”
“I object!” shouted Carter Bradford. ”She’s got it in for me! This is a put-up job?!”
Miss Wright turned innocent eyes on Mr. Bradford.
“One moment, Mr. Bradford!” Judge Newbold leaned far forward on the Bench. ”Bill Ketcham agreed with you, did he? What did he agree with you about? What else happened last night?”
“Well, Bill said Jim was guilty, all right, and if I’d promise to”?Pat blushed?”well, if I’d promise him a certain something, he’d see to it that Jim got what was coming to him. Said he’d talk to the others on the jury, too?being an insurance man, Bill said, he could sell anything. He said I was his dream girl, and for me he’d climb the highest mountain?”
“Silence in the court!” bellowed Judge Newbold.
And there was silence.
“Now, Miss Wright,” said Judge Newbold grimly, “are we to understand that you had this conversation last night with the William Ketcham who is Juror Number 7 in this trial?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” said Pat, her eyes wide. ”Is anything wrong with that? I’m sure if I had known?”
The rest was lost in uproar.
“Bailiff, clear the room!” screamed Judge Newbold.
* * *
“Now, then,” said Judge Newbold. ”Let’s have the rest of it, if you please!”?so frigidly that Pat turned
“W-we went out together, Bill and I, last Saturday night. Bill said we oughtn’t to be seen, maybe it wasn’t legal or something, so we drove over to Slocum to a hot spot Bill knows, and?and we’ve been there every night since. I said Jim was guilty, and Bill said sure, he thought so, too?”
“Your Honor,” said Judge Martin in a terrible voice, “I move?”
“Oh, you do!” said Judge Newbold. ”Eli Martin, if your reputation weren’t . . . You there!” he roared at the jurist. ”Ketcham! Number 7! Get up!”
Fat Billy Ketcham, the insurance broker, tried to obey, half hoisted himself, fell back again, and finally made it.
He stood there in the rear row of the jury box, swaying a little, as if the box were a canoe.
“William Ketcham,” snarled Judge Newbold, “have you spent every evening since last Saturday in the company of this young woman? Did you promise her to influence the rest of the jury?Bailiff! Chief Dakin! I
Ketcham was trapped in the main aisle after knocking over two fellow jurors and scattering the people inside the rail like a fat torn charging a brood of chicks.
When he was hauled up before Judge Newbold, he chattered: “I didn’t m-mean any harm, J-Judge?I d-didn’t think I was doing wrong,
Judge?I s-swear to you?everybody knows the s-sonofabitch is guilty?”
“Take this man in custody,” whispered Judge Newbold. ”Bailiff, station guards at the doors. There will be a five-minute recess. Jury, remain where you are. No one now present is to leave the courtroom!” And Judge Newbold
