“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.”

  “And,” Mason said, “after he had made that statement, your recognition of him as your brother became positive, did it not?”

  Leeds said, “That isn’t fair.”

  “Why isn’t it fair?”

  “I recognized him.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as I saw him.”

  “Before he had entered the house?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “But you didn’t call him by name, and you couldn’t place him during the time he was waiting for you to place him?”

  “Well, not exactly.”

  “And did you shake hands with him?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Was anyone else present at that conversation?”

  “During the last part of it, yes.”

  “And who was that?”

  “Jason Carrel.”

  “And did you introduce the defendant to Jason Carrel?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Do you remember exactly what you said?”

  “That’s been five or six years ago,” the witness protested. “It’s hard to remember things over that length of time.”

  “Not for a man with your remarkable memory,” Mason said. “I believe you stated your age was sixty-five. You were, therefore, about sixty when you saw your brother. You had last seen him when you were seven years old, and yet you recognized him instantly over this lapse of fifty-three years. Isn’t that right?”

  “Well . . . Well, yes.”

  “Now specifically what did you say to Jason Carrel? Did you say, ‘Jason, this is my brother, Alden’?”

  “Well, I can’t remember.”

  “As a matter of fact,” Mason said, “didn’t you say words to this effect, ‘Jason, this man claims to be your Uncle Alden.’ ”

  “Well, something like that.”

  Mason smiled. “That is all,” he said.

  Kittering frowned. “My next witness,” he said, “is Oscar Baker. . . . The court will pardon me. I am not proving the corpus delicti in the regularly accepted order. Some of these witnesses have asked to be excused, and it will be necessary for me to connect some of these things up later.”

  “You will have an opportunity to connect up your evidence,” Judge Knox said. “The court wishes to hear the fullest proof.”

  “Oscar Baker,” Kittering said.

  A sallow-skinned lad in the early twenties, whose clothes were the cheapest of ready-mades, yet cut in most extreme style, pinch-waisted his way across the courtroom, held up his hand, and was sworn. He gave his name as Oscar Baker, his occupation as a waiter, his age as twenty-three, his residence as in a rooming house.

  “Where are you working?” Kittering asked.

  “At the Blue and White Restaurant.”

  “You are employed as a waiter there?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long have you been so employed?”

  “I’ve been there going on to six months,” Baker said.

  “And you were so employed there as a waiter on the evening of the seventh of this month?”

  “I was.”

  “That was a Friday evening, I believe?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What time did you go to work?”

  “At four o’clock in the afternoon.”

  “At what time did you get off?”

  “At eleven o’clock at night.”

  “Were you acquainted with a John Milicant?”

  “I was, yes, sir.”

  “Had you seen him on several occasions?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Where?”

  “At his apartment house. It’s only a half a block down the street from the restaurant.”

  “And what were the occasions on which you had seen him?”

  “When I brought meals up to him.”

  “He occasionally ordered meals in his apartment?”

  “Yes.”

  “These meals were ordered from your restaurant, and you took them up in the course of your employment as a waiter?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s right.”

  “Now, on the evening in question, did you so serve a meal?”

  “Yes, sir. I did.”

  “How was that order received?”

  “Over the telephone.”

  “Who ordered it?”

  “Why, Mr. Milicant, I suppose.”

  “What did he order?”

  “He said he wanted dinner for two. He said he was very particular to get some mutton chops, peas and potatoes. He said to send out for the chops if I had to, but he wanted chops.”

  “When was that order received?”

  “At five minutes to eight.”

  “How did you happen to notice the time?”

  “Because I told him it might take a little time to get the mutton chops. I wasn’t certain we had any.”

  “Did you have some?”

  “Yes. When I went back to talk with the cook, I found out we did, although they weren’t on the bill of fare that night. He just had a few in the icebox, not enough to put on the menu, but he made up an order for two all right.”

  “And you took this meal to the apartment?”

  “I did.”

  “That was John Milicant’s apartment?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now just explain to the court what happened when you took the food up there.”

  “Well, I put the dishes on a tray, covered the tray with napkins and a folded tablecloth, and went into the apartment house. I knew the number of Milicant’s apartment—Conway, we called him.”

  “That’s L. C. Conway?” Kittering interrupted.

  “Yeah, Louie Conway. Well, I took the food up in the elevator, and knocked on the door. A voice yelled, ‘Come in.’ I opened the door and went in.”

  “The door was unlocked?” Kittering interjected.

  “That’s right, and the two guys—I mean men—were in the bedroom. I could hear them talking in there something about race horses, and I sort of kept my ears peeled because Louie Conway sometimes had some pretty good tips on race horses.

  “Well, nothing came of it. I think they knew I was listening because the other guy said, ‘Wait a minute. The boy’s out there.’ And then he popped his head out the door, and said, ‘Just put it there on the table, son, and come back when we call you and pick up the dishes. How much is the check?’ And I said, ‘One-seventy-five.’ He handed me three one-dollar bills, and said, ‘That’ll pay you for coming up. Now beat it.’

  “ ‘Want me to set the table?’ I asked.

  “ ‘No,’ he said, ‘we’re in a rush.’

  “ ‘That food should be eaten right away,’ I told him. ‘I heated up the dishes before I left, but carrying it out in the air ain’t helped it none.’ And this guy said, ‘Yeah, I know. On your way, son. We’re busy.’ ”

  “Did you know that man?” Kittering asked.

  “I didn’t then. I do now. It was Guy Serle, the man that bought out Conway’s business.”

  “You knew about Conway’s business?” Kittering asked.

  “Uh huh.”

  “What kind of business was it?”

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

  Judge Knox inquired of Kittering, “Is this for the purpose of showing the real identity of the murdered man, Counselor?”

  “Well, not exactly,” Kittering said, “but for the general purpose of showing the man’s background and . . . ”

  “Objection sustained,” Judge Knox said. “You can introduce evidence tending to prove the man’s identity. You have now introduced proof that the decedent was John Milicant, that he was also known as L. C. Conway, or Louie Conway. There has been some evidence concerning a Bill Hogarty, but so far there has been no evidence definitely establishing that the decedent and Bill Hogarty were one and the same. The court will give you every latitude in the matter, Mr. Deputy District Attorney, but in the face of objection, where there is no question of proving motive, malice, or opportunity by that line of interrogation, the court will not permit a collateral examination into the business affairs of the decedent. That, of course, is a general ruling. It may well be that, as your case opens up, the evidence will become pertinent. If you wish to connect it up, the court will receive it on your statement that it will be connected up and that it relates to some particular aspect of the case which it is incumbent upon the state to prove.”