And Clyde, noting it, gazed as one in a trance. His ultra-
pale face now blanched gray again, his long thin fingers
opened and shut, the red and swollen and weary lids of his
eyes blinked and blinked to break the strain of the damning
fact before him.
“I don’t know,” he said, a little weakly, after a time. “It must
have been in the Renfrew House rack.”
“Oh, must it? And if I bring two witnesses here to swear that
on July third—three days before you left Lycurgus for Fonda
—you were seen by them to enter the Lycurgus House and
take four or five folders from the rack there, will you still say
that it ‘musta been in the rack at the Renfrew House’ on
July sixth?” As he said this, Mason paused and looked
triumphantly about as much as to say: There, answer that if
you can! and Clyde, shaken and stiff and breathless for the
time being was compelled to wait at least fifteen seconds
before he was able sufficiently to control his nerves and
voice in order to reply: “Well, it musta been. I didn’t get it in
Lycurgus.”
“Very good. But in the meantime we’ll just let these
gentlemen here look at this,” and he now turned the folder
over to the foreman of the jury, who in turn passed it to the
juryman next to him, and so on, the while a distinct whisper
and buzz passed over the entire courtroom.
And when they had concluded—and much to the surprise
of the audience, which was expecting more and more
attacks and exposures, almost without cessation—Mason
turned and explained: “That’s all.” And at once many of the
spectators in the room beginning to whisper: “Trapped!
Trapped!” And Justice Oberwaltzer at once announcing that
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1081
because of the lateness of the hour, and in the face of a
number of additional witnesses for the defense, as well as a
few in rebuttal for the prosecution, he would prefer it if the
work for the day ended here. And both Belknap and Mason
gladly agreeing. And Clyde—the doors of the courtroom
being stoutly locked until he should be in his cell across the
way—being descended upon by Kraut and Sissel and by
them led through and down the very door and stairs which
for days he had been looking at and pondering about. And
once he was gone, Belknap and Jephson looking at each
other but not saying anything until once more safely locked
in their own office, when Belknap began with: “… not
carried off with enough of an air. The best possible defense
but not enough courage. It just isn’t in him, that’s all.” And
Jephson, flinging himself heavily into a chair, his overcoat
and hat still on, and saying: “No, that’s the real trouble, no
doubt. It musta been that he really did kill her. But I
suppose we can’t give up the ship now. He did almost
better than I expected, at that.” And Belknap adding: “Well,
I’ll do my final best and damnedest in my summing up, and
that’s all I can do.” And Jephson replying, a little wearily:
“That’s right, Alvin, it’s mostly up to you now, I’m sorry. But
in the meantime, I think I’ll go around to the jail and try and
hearten ‘im up a bit. It won’t do to let him look too winged or
lame tomorrow. He has to sit up and make the jury feel that
he, himself, feels that he isn’t guilty whatever they think.”
And rising he shoved his hands in the side pockets of his
long coat and proceeded through the winter’s dark and cold
of the dreary town to see Clyde.
An American Tragedy
1082
Chapter 26
THE remainder of the trial consisted of the testimony of
eleven witnesses—four for Mason and seven for Clyde.
One of the latter—a Dr. A. K. Sword, of Rehobeth—
chancing to be at Big Bittern on the day that Roberta’s body
was returned to the boat-house, now declared that he had
seen and examined it there and that the wounds, as they
appeared then, did not seem to him as other than such as
might have been delivered by such a blow as Clyde
admitted to having struck accidentally, and that
unquestionably Miss Alden had been drowned while
conscious—and not unconscious, as the state would have
the jury believe—a result which led Mason into an inquiry
concerning the gentleman’s medical history, which, alas,
was not as impressive as it might have been. He had been
graduated from a second-rate medical school in Oklahoma
and had practised in a small town ever since. In addition to
him—and entirely apart from the crime with which Clyde
was charged—there was Samuel Yearsley, one of the
farmers from around Gun Lodge, who, driving over the road
which Roberta’s body had traveled in being removed from
Big Bittern to Gun Lodge, now earnestly swore that the
road, as he had noticed in driving over it that same
morning, was quite rough—making it possible for Belknap,
who was examining him, to indicate that this was at least an
approximate cause of the extra-severity of the wounds upon
Roberta’s head and face. This bit of testimony was later
contradicted, however, by a rival witness for Mason—the
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1083
driver for Lutz Brothers, no less, who as earnestly swore
that he found no ruts or rough places whatsoever in the
road. And again there were Liggett and Whiggam to say
that in so far as they had been able to note or determine,
Clyde’s conduct in connection with his technical efforts for
Griffiths & Company had been attentive, faithful and
valuable. They had seen no official harm in him. And then
several other minor witnesses to say that in so far as they
had been able to observe his social comings and goings,
Clyde’s conduct was most circumspect, ceremonious and
guarded. He had done no ill that they knew of. But, alas, as
Mason in cross-examining them was quick to point out, they
had never heard of Roberta Alden or her trouble or even of
Clyde’s social relationship with her.
Finally many small and dangerous and difficult points
having been bridged or buttressed or fended against as
well as each side could, it became Belknap’s duty to say his
last word for Clyde. And to this he gave an entire day, most
carefully, and in the spirit of his opening address, retracing
and emphasizing every point which tended to show how,
almost unconsciously, if not quite innocently, Clyde had
fallen into the relationship with Roberta which had ended so
disastrously for both. Mental and moral cowardice, as he
now reiterated, inflamed or at least operated on by various
lacks in Clyde’s early life, plus new opportunities such as
previously had never appeared to be within his grasp, had
affected his “perhaps too pliable and sensual and
impractical and dreamy mind.” No doubt he had not been
fair to Miss Alden. No question as to that. He had not. But
on the other hand—and as had been most clearly shown by
the confession which the defense had elicited—he had not
proved ultimately so cruel or vile as the prosecution would
have the public and this honorable jury believe. Many men
were far more cruel in their love life than this young boy had
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1084
ever dreamed of being, and of course they were not
necessarily hung for that. And in passing technically on
whether this boy had actually committed the crime charged,
it was incumbent upon this jury to see that no generous
impulse relating to what this poor girl might have suffered in
her love-relations with this youth be permitted to sway them
to the belief or decision that for that this youth had
committed the crime specifically stated in the indictment.
Who among both sexes were not cruel at times in their love
life, the one to the other?
And then a long and detailed indictment of the purely
circumstantial nature of the evidence—no single person
having seen or heard anything of the alleged crime itself,
whereas Clyde himself had explained most clearly how he
came to find himself in the peculiar situation in which he did
find himself. And after that, a brushing aside of the incident
of the folder, as well as Clyde’s not remembering the price
of the boat at Big Bittern, his stopping to bury the tripod and
his being so near Roberta and not aiding her, as either
being mere accidents of chance, or memory, or, in the case
of his failing to go to her rescue, of his being dazed,
confused, frightened—“hesitating fatally but not criminally at
the one time in his life when he should not have hesitated”—
a really strong if jesuitical plea which was not without its
merits and its weight.
And then Mason, blazing with his conviction that Clyde was
a murderer of the coldest and blackest type, and spending