“No objection,” Mason drawled.

  “Can you,” Kittering asked, “fix the time of death any more definitely than that, Doctor?”

  “Not in relation to the time when I examined the body, but I can fix it very definitely in regard to the contents of the stomach.”

  “What do you mean, Doctor?”

  “I mean that in examining the contents of the stomach, and submitting them to an examination for the purposes of detecting the possible presence of poison, we found that the person in question had died approximately two hours after a meal consisting primarily of mutton, probably in the form of chops, green peas, and potatoes, had been consumed. . .. In order to explain my answer, I may state that while the time of death as fixed in postmortem depends upon various elastic factors such as rigor mortis, the cooling of the body, etc., and is, therefore, subject to a certain amount of individual variation, the processes of digestion are more uniform; and by examining the state to which those digestive processes have progressed prior to death, we can, when there is food in the stomach, fix the time of death with much greater nicety.”

  “Can you,” Kittering asked, “fix the exact time of death?”

  “In view of the evidence,” the doctor said positively, “I fix the time of death definitely as not before ten o’clock in the evening preceding that of the day in which the body was discovered and not later then ten-forty-five on the evening of said day.”

  “How do you fix that time?” Kittering asked.

  “By an examination of the extent to which the digestive processes had functioned, in connection with the time at which the last meal had been consumed.”

  Kittering said triumphantly, “You may inquire.”

  Mason said to the court, “Of course, Your Honor, I could move to strike out this entire testimony on the theory that it is predicated upon facts which are beyond the doctor’s knowledge.”

  “This testimony will be connected up,” Kittering said.

  “Well,” Mason observed, “to save time, I won’t make the motion, but to get the record clear, I’ll ask a few questions. . .. How do you determine the time of death when you are performing a post-mortem, Doctor?”

  “Under circumstances such as this,” the doctor said, with acid hostility, “there are various methods. An examination of the stomach content where there is food in the stomach and data available as to the time of ingestion is by far the best method.”

  “Acting,” Mason said, “on the assumption that dinner was served and eaten at eight-ten?”

  “Acting on the assumption that dinner was served at eight-ten. Yes, sir.”

  “But,” Mason pointed out, “your only knowledge of when dinner was eaten is predicated entirely upon what has been told you. Isn’t that right?”

  The doctor raised his voice. “There are witnesses to prove it.”

  “If it should turn out the wtinesses are mistaken in their time, then you are mistaken in your time. Is that right?”

  “The witness isn’t mistaken,” the doctor said. “I’ve talked with him personally.”

  “But all you know of your own knowledge, Doctor, is that you performed an autopsy on a body, that death had occurred from eight to fourteen hours prior to the time you made your examination and within approximately two hours of the time the deceased partook of a meal consisting of certain specific articles of food?”

  “You can put it that way if you want to,” the doctor snapped.

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Mason said with a smile. “I want to. That’s all. You’re excused.”

  “Jason Carrel will be the next witness,” Kittering announced.

  Carrel, poker-faced, steady-eyed, came forward, raised his right hand, and was sworn. He gave his name and residence. “Did you,” Kittering asked, “see a body at the funeral parlors of Breckenbridge & Manifred?”

  “I did.”

  “When was that?”

  “On the morning of Saturday, the seventh.”

  “And did you identify that body?”

  “I did.”

  “Had you been acquainted with that man during his lifetime?”

  “Yes.”

  “Under what name did you know him?”

  “Under the name of John Milicant, a brother of Emily Milicant.”

  “And do you know whether this defendant, Alden Leeds, your uncle, also knew the deceased?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “Under what name?”

  “Objected to as calling for a conclusion of the witness,” Mason said. “He can’t testify as to what his uncle knows.”

  “Sustained.”

  “Did you ever hear your uncle call him by name?”

  “I did.”

  “Under what name did your uncle address him?” Kittering asked triumphantly.

  “As John Milicant.”

  “You may inquire,” Kittering said.

  “You have no particular affection for your uncle, the defendant in this case?” Mason inquired conversationally.

  “On the contrary, I really care for him,” Carrel retorted. “I care enough for him so that I realized he was in danger of being victimized by an unscrupulous adventuress, and took steps to prevent him being stripped of his property.”

  “And by the unscrupulous adventuress, you refer to Emily Milicant, the sister of the deceased?”

  “I do.”

  “Now then,” Mason said conversationally, “suppose that it should appear that the defendant in this case was not your uncle. Would that make any difference in connection with your testimony?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Simply this. Suppose that in the event of his death—either by natural causes or in the gas chamber at San Quentin—you stood no chance of profiting, in other words, that you were not a natural heir of his and, therefore, not in a position to share in his estate or contest his will, would you continue your efforts to prevent his marriage or regard the possibility that he might be convicted of murder with equal satisfaction?”

  Kittering jumped to his feet. “Your Honor,” he shouted. “Your Honor, this is outrageous! This is uncalled for. This is unethical and unprofessional. It is quite on a par with the tactics that counsel has used in . . .”

  Judge Knox interrupted calmly to say, “The question is not temperate. It may not be considerate. Doubtless, it is not courteous, but it is legal. I know of no law which requires counsel to be courteous, temperate, or considerate with witnesses who testify adversely. The question goes to show motivation, bias, and a possible reason. Therefore, it will be allowed.”

  “Answer the question,” Mason said.

  “I care nothing whatever about my uncle’s money,” Carrel said in a low voice.

  “But you did have him strong-armed out of an automobile in order to place him in an institution when you thought he was about to marry Emily Milicant.”

  “I did that for his own good.”

  “And your own good, your own advantage, didn’t enter into the matter at all?” Mason asked suavely.

  Carrel hesitated a minute, fidgeted uneasily, then raised sullen eyes, and said, “No.”

  “And you didn’t discuss with the other two relatives who cooperated with you in that action, the advisability of having your uncle committed to an institution so that you could prevent his marriage, prevent him making a valid will, and thereby insure your participation in the fruits of his lifelong savings?”

  Carrel again fidgeted, and then said without looking up, “No.”

  “There was no conversation to that effect?”

  “No.”

  “The matter wasn’t mentioned in your presence by any of the others?”

  Again there was a long silence. Again Carrel answered without looking up, “No.”

  “Your action in kidnaping your uncle was actuated by the loftiest motives and without any thought whatever for your own financial interest?”

  “Objected to,” Kittering snapped. “Assuming facts not in evidence. I object particularly to the use of the word ‘kidnaping.’”

  “Sustained,” Judge Knox said.

  Mason smiled. “You have admitted that you attempted to have your uncle declared incompetent and placed in an institution?”

  As the witness hesitated, Mason opened his brief case, and said, “I have here a copy of your sworn statement if you wish to refresh your recollection, Mr. Carrel.”

  “Yes,” Carrel said, “I did.”

  “And you tricked him into entering the grounds of an institution where two male nurses, at your request, forcibly dragged him from an automobile and detained him against his will?”

  “It wasn’t at my request.”

  “Oh, you had nothing to do with that?”

  “No.”

  “You asked Dr. Parkin C. Londonberry to have that done, didn’t you?”

  “I asked him to give my uncle proper treatment.”

  “And explained to him that by proper treatment, you meant that your uncle should be confined?”

  “Well, yes—in a way.”

  “Now, are you acquainted with an Inez Colton?”

  “No,” Jason Carrel shouted.

  “You don’t know her?”

  “No.”

  “Have never met her?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know anyone who lives in the apartment house where this decedent resided and where his body was found?”

  “No.”

  Mason regarded him with narrowed eyes. “You’re aware that you’re under oath, and that this is a murder case?”

  “Naturally.”

  “And your answers still stand?”

  “Yes.”

  “That,” Mason announced, “is all.”

  Judge Knox, in a manner which plainly showed his complete disbelief, said, “Mr. Carrel, do you wish this court to understand that during the time you and your relatives were discussing the steps you were taking to have your uncle, the defendant in this case, declared incompetent, there was never at any time in your presence any conversation whatever as to the material advantages which would result in behalf of any of the relatives from preventing your uncle’s marriage, preventing him from making a valid will, or prevailing in your action to have him declared incompetent?”

  Carrel shifted his eyes, looked at Mason for a moment, then turned appealingly to Kittering. In an almost inaudible voice, he said, “There was never any such conversation.”

  “That’s all,” Judge Knox said, his voice as ominously final as the closing of a steel trap.

  Kittering seemed uneasy. “Of course, Mr. Carrel,” he said, “I take it that you might have casually mentioned that you were your uncle’s heirs, and were safeguarding his fortune for him.”

  “Objected to as leading and suggestive,” Mason said.

  “Objection sustained,” Judge Knox said.

  Kittering said, “Well, did you discuss indirectly any financial benefit which might have occurred to you?”

  “No,” Carrel said.

  “Witness excused,” Kittering announced, his voice showing his impatience. “I will call Freeman Leeds to the stand.”

  Freeman Leeds, a big, powerful man, whose face had set with age into lines of sullen defiance, took the oath, gave his name and address to the reporter, and took the witness stand.

  “You are a brother of the defendant in this case?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you at any time discussed with the defendant a person known as Bill Hogarty?”

  “Yes.”

  “When?”

  “Upon two or three occasions. I can’t remember the exact dates.”

  “And what did the defendant say about Hogarty?”

  “Objected to,” Mason said, “as incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial.”

  “I offer to connect it up,” Kittering said.

  “On that understanding, the objection will be overruled,” Judge Knox said.

  Freeman Leeds said, “Alden had been up in the Klondike. He told me something about his adventures up there. He’d struck it rich, and Bill Hogarty had been his partner on the claim when they struck it rich.”

  “Did the defendant describe William Hogarty to you in any way?”

  “He said Hogarty was younger than he was, but a strong lad,” Freeman Leeds said.

  “Did he make any further statements about Hogarty?”

  “Said Hogarty and he had some trouble.”

  “Did he say what the trouble was?”

  “I understood it was over a woman.”

  “Not what you understood,” Kittering corrected. “Did he specifically say that?”

  “Yes, he said it was over a dance hall girl.”

  “Did he say anything more about the trouble?”

  “At one time, he said that he’d been in a shooting scrape over a woman.”

  “Did he say where that shooting occurred?”

  “Up in the Klondike some place.”

  “You may cross-examine,” Kittering said.

  “May I ask,” Mason inquired, “the object of this examination? Is it the contention of the prosecution that this vague testimony goes to show that the body is that of Bill Hogarty?”

  “That is our contention,” Kittering said. “Your Honor, we expect to connect this up. We expect to introduce evidence tending to show that this defendant forged the name of Bill Hogarty to various hotel registers, that when he left the Klondike he went for a time under the name of Bill Hogarty; that he took with him all of Bill Hogarty’s share in the mining claim, that this decedent is none other than Bill Hogarty, that Hogarty attempted to secure some financial adjustment from the defendant, and the defendant, rather than part with any of his fraudulent gains, planned to murder Hogarty. In that way, we expect to show motivation for the crime.”

  “You have all of the proof necessary to show that?” Mason inquired blandly.

  “We have all we need,” Kittering snapped. “Some of it we will prove by inference, but you don’t need to appear so surprised, Mr. Mason. Your ad in the personal columns of the Seattle paper shows that you . . .”

  “That will do,” Judge Knox interrupted. “Counsel will refrain from personalities. You will proceed with cross-examination of the witness, Mr. Mason.”

  Mason said, “Very well, Your Honor. Now, Mr. Leeds, I am going to ask you the same question that I asked Jason Carrel. Was there any conversation which took place in your presence or in the presence of Jason Carrel to the effect that it would be to your financial advantage, either directly or indirectly, to have Alden Leeds declared incompetent or committed to an institution?”

  Leeds took a deep breath. “I’d rather not answer that question.”

  “Go ahead and answer it,” Mason said.

  “It’s a proper question,” Judge Knox ruled.

  “Your Honor,” Kittering objected desperately, “if counsel wishes to impeach Jason Carrel, he must do it as a part of his own case, not by trying to force one of my witnesses into making the impeachment.”

  “I don’t agree with you,” Judge Knox said. “This question goes to show bias on the part of this witness. It is quite obvious that if the defendant is convicted of a crime it will prevent the consummation of a marriage which apparently is and was objectionable to his relatives. You may answer the question, Mr. Leeds.”

  “There was some talk about my being appointed guardian.”

  “Any talk about any financial advantage to accrue from that appointment?”

  Freeman Leeds became silent for several uneasy seconds. “No,” he said at length.

  “And no talk about the possibility of any of you inheriting a part of the defendant’s fortune?”

  Leeds hesitated. “No,” he said.

  “The defendant is your older brother?”

  “Yes.”

  “How old were you when the defendant left home?”

  “I was seven years old.”

  “When did you next see him again?”

  “About five years ago.”

  “And you had no contact with him in the meantime?”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t hear from him?”

  “No.”

  “Didn’t know where he was?”

  “No.”

  “How did you know this defendant is your brother?”

  “I recognized him,” Leeds said.

  Mason smiled. “Would you,” he asked suavely, “have recognized him if he had been broke?”

  A ripple of laughter swept the courtroom, swelled in one or two instances into a guffaw of mirth. Judge Knox, fighting to keep a smile from his lips, said, “The court will come to order. We’ll have no more laughter. The question is adroitly framed, conveying as it does, an entire argument by inference. However, the spectators will cease from giving any expressions of amusement or interrupting the order of proceedings. Answer the question, Mr. Leeds.”

  Freeman Leeds said, “Of course, I’d have recognized him.”

  “And if he’d appeared at your back door with a roll of blankets over his shoulder, ragged, unkempt, and asking for a meal, do you think you would have forthwith recognized him as your long-lost brother?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where did the meeting take place, Mr. Leeds?”

  “Alden Leeds drove up to my house.”

  “In a taxicab?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He asked me if I didn’t remember him, and if I couldn’t place him. Then, after a while, he said, ‘Don’t you remember your own brother, Alden Leeds?’”

  “I see,” Mason said with a smile. “There was some interval between the time when he asked if you didn’t know him and couldn’t place him?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long?”

  “A minute or two.”

  “And during all of that time, you failed to recognize him?”

  “Well, I wasn’t exactly sure.”

  “I see. And after Alden Leeds made the announcement, did you then recognize him?”

  “Well, I told him to come in.”

  “And the defendant entered your house?”

  “Yes.”

  “And talked for some time?”

  “For an hour or so, yes.”

  “And at that time, he told you that he had made a fortune in the Klondike?”

  “Well, he said he was pretty well fixed.”