an entire day in riddling the “spider’s tissue of lies and
unsupported statements” with which the defense was
hoping to divert the minds of the jury from the unbroken
and unbreakable chain of amply substantiated evidence
wherewith the prosecution had proved this “bearded man”
to be the “red-handed murderer” that he was. And with
hours spent in retracing the statements of the various
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witnesses. And other hours in denouncing Clyde, or re-
telling the bitter miseries of Roberta—so much so that the
jury, as well as the audience, was once more on the verge
of tears. And with Clyde deciding in his own mind as he sat
between Belknap and Jephson, that no jury such as this
was likely to acquit him in the face of evidence so artfully
and movingly recapitulated.
And then Oberwaltzer from his high seat finally instructing
the jury: “Gentlemen—all evidence is, in a strict sense,
more or less circumstantial, whether consisting of facts
which permit the inference of guilt or whether given by an
eyewitness. The testimony of an eyewitness is, of course,
based upon circumstances.
“If any of the material facts of the case are at variance with
the probability of guilt, it will be the duty of you gentlemen to
give the defendant the benefit of the doubt raised.
“And it must be remembered that evidence is not to be
discredited or decried because it is circumstantial. It may
often be more reliable evidence than direct evidence.
“Much has been said here concerning motive and its
importance in this case, but you are to remember that proof
of motive is by no means indispensable or essential to
conviction. While a motive may be shown as a
circumstance to aid in fixing a crime, yet the people are not required to prove a motive.
“If the jury finds that Roberta Alden accidentally or
involuntarily fell out of the boat and that the defendant
made no attempt to rescue her, that does not make the
defendant guilty and the jury must find the defendant ‘not
guilty.’ On the other hand, if the jury finds that the defendant
in any way, intentionally, there and then brought about or
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contributed to that fatal accident, either by a blow or
otherwise, it must find the defendant guilty.
“While I do not say that you must agree upon your verdict, I
would suggest that you ought not, any of you, place your
minds in a position which will not yield if after careful
deliberation you find you are wrong.”
So, Justice Oberwaltzer—solemnly and didactically from his
high seat to the jury.
And then, that point having been reached, the jury rising
and filing from the room at five in the afternoon. And Clyde
immediately thereafter being removed to his cell before the
audience proper was allowed to leave the building. There
was constant fear on the part of the sheriff that he might be
attacked. And after that five long hours in which he waited,
walking to and fro, to and fro, in his cell, or pretending to
read or rest, the while Kraut or Sissel, tipped by various
representatives of the press for information as to how Clyde
“took it” at this time, slyly and silently remained as near as
possible to watch.
And in the meantime Justice Oberwaltzer and Mason and
Belknap and Jephson, with their attendants and friends, in
various rooms of the Bridgeburg Central Hotel, dining and
then waiting impatiently, with the aid of a few drinks, for the
jury to agree, and wishing and hoping that the verdict would
be reached soon, whatever it might be.
And in the meantime the twelve men—farmers, clerks and
storekeepers, re-canvassing for their own mental
satisfaction the fine points made by Mason and Belknap
and Jephson. Yet out of the whole twelve but one man—
Samuel Upham, a druggist—(politically opposed to Mason
and taken with the personality of Jephson)—sympathizing
with Belknap and Jephson. And so pretending that he had
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doubts as to the completeness of Mason’s proof until at last
after five ballots were taken he was threatened with
exposure and the public rage and obloquy which was sure
to follow in case the jury was hung. “We’ll fix you. You won’t
get by with this without the public knowing exactly where
you stand.” Whereupon, having a satisfactory drug
business in North Mansfield, he at once decided that it was
best to pocket this opposition to Mason and agree.
Then four hollow knocks on the door leading from the jury
room to the courtroom. It was the foreman of the jury,
Foster Lund, a dealer in cement, lime and stone. His great
fist was knocking. And at that the hundreds who had
crowded into the hot stuffy courtroom after dinner though
many had not even left—stirred from the half stupor into
which they had fallen. “What’s that? What’s happened? Is
the jury ready to report? What’s the verdict?” And men and
women and children starting up to draw nearer the
excluding rail. And the two deputies on guard before the
jury door beginning to call. “All right! All right! As soon as
the judge comes.” And then other deputies hurrying to the
prison over the way in order that the sheriff might be
notified and Clyde brought over—and to the Bridgeburg
Central Hotel to summon Oberwaltzer and all the others.
And then Clyde, in a half stupor or daze from sheer
loneliness and killing suspense, being manacled to Kraut
and led over between Slack, Sissel and others. And
Oberwaltzer, Mason, Belknap and Jephson and the entire
company of newspaper writers, artists, photographers and
others entering and taking the places that they had
occupied all these long weeks. And Clyde winking and
blinking as he was seated behind Belknap and Jephson now
—not with them, for as stoutly manacled as he was to
Kraut, he was compelled to sit by him. And then
Oberwaltzer on the bench and the clerk in his place, the
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jury room door being opened and the twelve men filing
solemnly in—quaint and varied figures in angular and for
the most part much-worn suits of the ready-made variety.
And as they did so, seating themselves in the jury box, only
to rise again at the command of the clerk, who began:
“Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed on a verdict?”—
yet without one of them glancing in the direction of either
Belknap or Jephson or Clyde, which Belknap at once
interpreted as fatal.
“It’s all off,” he whispered to Jephson. “Against us. I can
tell.” And then Lund announcing: “We have. We find the
defendant guilty of murder in the first degree.” And Clyde,
entirely dazed and yet trying to keep his poise and remain
serene, gazing straight before him toward the jury and
beyond, and with scarcely a blink of the eye. For had he
not, in his cell the night before, been told by Jephson, who
had found him deeply depressed, that the verdict in this
trial, assuming that it proved to be unfavorable, was of no
consequence. The trial from start to finish had been unfair.
Prejudice and bias had governed its every step. Such
bullying and browbeating and innuendo as Mason had
indulged in before the jury would never pass as fair or
adequate in any higher court. And a new trial—on appeal—
would certainly be granted—although by whom such an
appeal was to be conducted he was not now prepared to
discuss.
And now, recalling that, Clyde saying to himself that it did
not so much matter perhaps, after all. It could not, really—
or could it? Yet think what these words meant in case he
could not get a new trial! Death! That is what it would mean
if this were final—and perhaps it was final. And then to sit in
that chair he had seen in his mind’s eye for so long—these
many days and nights when he could not force his mind to
drive it away. Here it was again before him—that dreadful,
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ghastly chair—only closer and larger than ever before—
there in the very center of the space between himself and
Justice Oberwaltzer. He could see it plainly now—squarish,
heavy-armed, heavy-backed, some straps at the top and
sides. God! Supposing no one would help him now! Even
the Griffiths might not be willing to pay out any more
money! Think of that! The Court of Appeals to which
Jephson and Belknap had referred might not be willing to
help him either. And then these words would be final. They
would! They would I God! His jaws moved slightly, then set
—because at the moment he became conscious that they
were moving. Besides, at that moment Belknap was rising
and asking for an individual poll of the jury, while Jephson
leaned over and whispered: “Don’t worry about it. It isn’t
final. We’ll get a reversal as sure as anything.” Yet as each