“Tell it in your own way, Mr. Spalding,” said Mr. Porter, government prosecutor.
“Well, my wife was with me and we were in evening clothes. That is, I had on my tuxedo and she was wearing low neck. We didn’t have no trouble getting in and were shown to a table near the dance floor. I asked a waiter to bring some rye and he brought a pint bottle. I bought four pints altogether. It was ten dollars a pint. Miss Moore sung a couple of songs.
“Then the manager, Mr. Schwartz, come to our table and introduced himself. I give him my name as Travers. I asked him could we meet Miss Moore and he said he would bring her to our table. She had been drinking at other tables and when she got to our table she was pretty well gone. I offered to buy a drink. She said she didn’t want rye, but Mr. Schwartz would fetch her some rum from her locker. He did so. I bought another pint of rye and drunk it while she drunk the rum.”
“Did she know you were buying it?”
Henry’s eyes happened to stray to where Marian sat. Her head was bowed low and her body was shaking with sobs. Henry felt a lump in his throat.
“I think she did.”
“You just think so?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Wasn’t she right there when you ordered it and when it was brought in?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then how could she help knowing you had bought it on the premises?”
“I don’t suppose she could.”
“Take the witness.”
“Now, Mr. Spalding,” said Mr. English for the defense, “you say Miss Moore was pretty well gone when she came to your table. Do you mean she was drunk?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How do you know?”
“She talked silly.”
“Haven’t you ever heard a woman talk silly when she wasn’t drunk?”
“I suppose I have.”
“Then isn’t it stretching a point to say Miss Moore was drunk just because she talked silly?”
“They talk entirely different when they’re drunk than sober.”
“Did you ever, on any other occasion, hear Miss Moore talk?”
“No, sir.”
“Did you taste Miss Moore’s drink?”
“No, sir.”
“How do you know it was rum?”
“She said so. She said it was a hundred years old.”
“Do you believe all that people say these days about their own liquor?”
“No, sir.”
“You bought four pints of rye. How much of it did your wife drink?”
“She had two highballs.”
“Did Mr. Schwartz drink any?”
“No, sir.”
“Did Miss Moore drink any?”
“No, sir.”
“Then you drank four pints, or two quarts, yourself; that is, all but the ounce or two that your wife drank?”
“Yes, sir.”
“In what length of time?”
“About three hours.”
“And you went home sober?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did your wife think you were sober?”
“I object, your Honor,” interrupted Mr. Porter. “A wife is no judge of her husband’s sobriety.”
“Sustained,” said the court.
“Was there anything,” continued Mr. English, “that would lead you to believe Miss Moore was financially interested in the club?”
“She spoke of it as ‘her club.’ ”
“Do you belong to any club in Toledo?”
“Yes, sir. The Elks.”
“What do you call it?”
“The Elks.”
“That will do.”
“We rest,” said Mr. Porter.
“I move for dismissal, your Honor.”
“The trial will proceed,” said the court.
“Miss Moore, please take the stand.”
Marian was still sobbing violently and Henry felt awful.
“Miss Moore,” said Mr. English, “I know what an ordeal this is for a hardworking, innocent, unprotected girl like you and I will ask you only two questions. Did you have a financial interest in the Cozy Club?”
Marian, unable to speak, shook her head.
“On the night you met this Spalding, or Travers, were you under the influence of liquor?”
“Your Honor,” Marian said, turning to the court, “I wasn’t never under the influence of liquor because I never tasted a drop of it in my life.”
“Take the witness,” said Mr. English.
“Miss Moore,” said Mr. Porter, “if you never tasted liquor, what was in the bottle Mr. Schwartz brought you?”
“Cough medicine.”
“Do you suffer from coughs?”
“No, sir.”
“Then why do you take cough medicine?”
“So I won’t suffer from coughs.”
Mr. Porter and Mr. English made eloquent summations, the former arguing for enforcement of the law and against the credibility of the defense’s only witness, while Miss Moore’s counsel spoke feelingly of the sanctity of womanhood, and wolves in evening clothes.
Marian sobbed all through both speeches and the judge’s charge and was still sobbing when the jury returned with a verdict of not guilty. She then recovered her composure, kissed her lawyer and the twelve brave men and true, and rushed to the ladies’ dressing room where her maid awaited her with some cough syrup.
“Gosh, this air feels good!” said Juryman No. 4 as he reached the street. “Her breath had me reeling!”
For three nights Henry Spalding tried in vain to muster enough courage to visit The Snug, where Marian had been employed since the padlocking of the Cozy Club. He knew now that he loved her and had done her a great wrong. He had never been able to resist a woman’s tears.
He was not sucker enough to believe the one about the cough medicine, but wasn’t a woman justified in lying to keep out of jail?
Liar or no liar, Marian was the only woman for him now and he knew he would never go back to Toledo and resume practice on his clarinet until he had seen her and begged her forgiveness.
On the fourth night, he ordered two quarts of Scotch from a bell boy and drank it as he made notes for a report against the hotel. Two o’clock in the morning found him inside the Snug, beckoning Marian to his table.
“Hello, Spalding, or Travers. Set down and buy me a drink. I’m out of rum, and I’ve got to have something while I wait for a friend that’s bringing me supplies.”
“I came to apologize,” said Henry. “I’m sorrier than I ever can tell you and I want you to forgive me for what I done. When I saw you crying in court the other day, my heart just about broke. And I realized—”
“What did
