“When I learned about his bad habits-he was a dope addict-I sought the annulment and disclosed his vice to- to certain people. I guess that was why he was deported. I think it is a good thing, too.”
“I have no doubt. Such vigilance is admirable… Now, Miss Watson, we have in our possession evidence that, in the next several years, you were attended by three different psychoanalysts, and for one short period you were confined to a mental institution. In itself, nothing wrong. Such treatment is not uncommon. In fact, it shows good sense to take corrective measures when you are emotionally ill. Naturally, and properly, your psychoanalysts and the mental institution would not open their confidential files on your illness to us. We have only the information that you were placed in an institution because you made an attempt upon your own life, made an attempt to commit suicide by self-inflicted wounds that-”
Zeke Miller’s voice shrieked, “Objection, Mr. Chief Justice! The testimony the manager is trying to elicit is irrelevant and immaterial to the case on trial, and an obvious effort to damage the character of the witness.”
Abrahams appealed to the Chief Justice. “Your Honor, I believe this line of questioning is highly relevant. I am not interested in damaging the character of the witness, beyond bringing to light the factual evidence of her consistent instability, and therefore her lack of capacity for the position for which the President had hired her.”
“The President did hire her!” Miller shouted.
“Because he was misled as to her qualifications by Secretary of State Eaton, and for reasons that have a direct bearing on this case,” said Abrahams.
“Objection sustained,” announced the Chief Justice. “Mr. Manager Abrahams, henceforth confine yourself strictly to questions that will bring out testimony concerned with the charges in Article III.”
Abashed, Abrahams closed his folder, walked over and handed it to Tuttle, then returned to Sally Watson.
“Miss Watson, since Arthur Eaton was partly instrumental in helping you become the President’s social secretary, I am curious to know how long and how well you have known him.”
“How long? Always, I guess. He is a sort of friend of my father. I would see him at social functions.”
“And that acquaintance was enough for him to know your qualifications for the White House position?”
“Well, we often talked. I think he thought I was intelligent, and had social experience.”
“After the catastrophe in Frankfurt, you knew that Secretary Eaton was the next in line to succession to the Presidency, did you not?”
“I may have read it. I never gave it a thought.”
“You mean you never discussed this with Secretary Eaton, not even when you two were alone together?”
“We were never alone togeth-I mean, not actually-”
“Miss Watson, since you are under oath, and before you complete your recollection, I hasten to refresh your memory. We have evidence, entered into the record, to prove that you were seen dining with the Secretary of State outside Washington, and that, later, you were frequently a visitor to his Georgetown house after dark. Do you deny that?”
“I told you he was an old family friend. I saw him sometimes because he was nice to me, gave me advice at times when my father was busy. When I had a personal problem, I always ran to Mr. Eaton. That’s not unusual.”
“Did you know the Secretary of State was married?”
“Of course.”
“Was his wife ever present at these-these fatherly private meetings you had with him?”
“No. She was traveling.”
“Then, perhaps I am old-fashioned in suggesting your conduct
“You’re twisting it, that’s all. We were hardly ever alone. When we went out a few times, there were other people around. When I went to his house, there were sometimes other guests, well, the servants were there.”
“Did you know that the Secretary of State, who was your friend, and the President, who was your employer, were having important political differences?”
“No, I did not.”
“Since you spent so much time in the company of the President, in his private quarters, and in the evening, where confidential documents of state might be seen and phone calls overheard, did you ever hear anything-let us say, concerning our nation’s foreign affairs-that you repeated to Secretary Eaton?”
“No, I did not.”
“Miss Watson, about the night under discussion, the night the President allegedly made improper advances to you, you have stated that he was intoxicated. Were you?”
“No, I was not.”
“Yet you were seen, at the dinner for the Joint Chiefs of Staff, consuming champagne before and after the meal, and wine during it.”
“Wine does not make me drunk. It is a part of the meal.”
“And then, according to your testimony, you drank in the President’s bedroom?”
“He forced me to.”
“Forced you? How is that possible? He offered you a drink, if he did, and you accepted it. Is that what you mean?”
“I had to take it.”
“Miss Watson, you stated you were waiting in his bedroom before he arrived. How long?”
“I don’t know. Ten or fifteen minutes.”
“What did you do in his room?”
“Do? I-I smoked, and reread the papers he sent for, and kept thinking how I wished I wasn’t there.”
“The President had left his briefcase open in the room. It contained top-secret documents of such a nature as to have been useful to your friend Arthur Eaton. Did you even casually look at any of those documents?”
“Of course not! What do you think I am?”
“Then the President came in and pressed his attentions upon you, and because you resisted you were injured-is that still your story?”
“It is not my story, it is what happened.”
“Miss Watson, I have shown the photographs of the scratches and bruises on your chest and legs to three highly competent physicians. It is their opinion that while the wounds may indeed have been caused by another person, they may also, like the scar on your wrist, have been self-inflicted. Now-”
“That’s a filthy dirty lie!”
“I am merely repeating expert-”
“A lie!”
“I am sorry to have so upset you, Miss Watson. You must remember there were two persons in that bedroom, not one-”
“You bet your life there were.”
“-and you have given the court one view of what took place, but there is quite another view held by the other person who was present. In any event, let’s leave behind us the scene of our disagreement. Let’s get you out of that savage bedroom. You escaped, as you have told us. Where did you go? What happened next?”
“I ran to my office in the East Wing, to the washroom, to stop the bleeding, and clean up. Then I went home.”
“You went home. A little while ago, when learned counsel for the House asked you what you did immediately afterward, you said you promptly told some friends high up in government what had happened to you. How did you tell them, by telephone or in person?”
“In-in person. I couldn’t go right home in my condition. Now I remember. I had to speak to someone. So I went to my friends.”
“Could one of your friends, perchance, have been the Honorable Secretary of State Arthur Eaton?”
“Yes. I thought of him first.”
“You went to his house in Georgetown to tell him?”
“Yes.”
“But he was merely one friend. You say you spoke to several friends. Perhaps, when you went to Secretary
