“I will hand you this carving knife,” he, said to the witness, “and ask you if this isn’t the carving knife which was in the hand of the figure which you saw walking across the patio.”

  Duncan said savagely, “No, it isn’t.

  “How do you know it isn’t?” Mason asked.

  “Well,” Duncan said, “I don’t think it’s the same one.”

  “You want the Court and the jury to understand that you could see that carving knife plainly enough to identify it?”

  “Not to identify it, but I could get a general description of it.”

  “And you’re certain this wasn’t the carving knife?”

  “I don’t think it was.”

  “Are you certain it wasn’t?”

  “Well, of course, I couldn’t be certain at that distance.”

  “Then you can’t be certain that this knife, which has been introduced by the People as Exhibit Number Two, was the same knife, can you?”

  “Well, no,” Duncan said, “I can’t.”

  “I think,” Mason remarked, “I’m going to ask the Court to have this second knife marked for identification as defendant’s Exhibit A.”

  “I object,” Burger shouted. “That knife, Your Honor, doesn’t enter into the case in any way. That is simply a trick by which the counsel for the Defense has sought to becloud the issue. I can prove that counsel for the Defense got that knife long after the murder through a hardware . . .”

  Mason whirled savagely toward him, but before he could interrupt, Judge Markham had snapped forth a ruling.

  “That will do, Mr. District Attorney. Never mind what you can prove as to the source of the knife. This witness has testified that the figure he saw in the patio was carrying a knife which he thinks was People’s Exhibit Number Two; that it was, at any rate, similar in appearance. It is legitimate cross-examination to produce another knife and ask him the questions which Counselor Mason has asked, No objection was made to those questions when they were put to the witness. Counselor is now asking only that the knife be marked for identification, in order that the identical knife concerning which the witness was interrogated can be identified. It is entirely proper. The Court will mark the knife for identification as defendant’s Exhibit A.”

  Mason turned, suddenly whirled to face Duncan and said, “Mr. Duncan, isn’t the real reason that you were able to go back to sleep due to the fact you didn’t realize at the time the figure you saw was carrying a knife?”

  “I saw that he was carrying something in his hand, something that glittered.”

  “But isn’t it a fact that you didn’t realize that it was a knife and it wasn’t until after the murder had been discovered the next morning that it occurred to you that it must have been a knife. Didn’t you see merely a white figure walking in the patio? Didn’t you think it was someone walking in his sleep; and didn’t you decide that you weren’t going to interfere, but safeguarded yourself against intrusion by locking your door, and then went back to sleep?”

  “I didn’t say the man was walking in his sleep.”

  “But I’m asking you if it isn’t a fact.”

  “No.”

  “And isn’t it true that the only reason you were able to go back to sleep was because you didn’t see a knife in his hand clearly enough to recognize what the object was?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Can you be more positive than that?”

  “Yes. I saw the knife.”

  “Now, the figure went to the coffee table in the patio?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you see him raise the lid of the coffee table?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you saw the figure then leave the coffee table, walk across the patio and leave the patio by the door which you have indicated?”

  “Yes.”

  “After the figure left the table, did it continue to carry the knife?”

  “Why, yes . . . I don’t know . I can’t say.

  “Would you say that it was not carrying the knife?”

  “I wouldn’t say one way or another.”

  “Then, it is possible that the figure left the knife in the oblong receptacle underneath the top of the coffee table?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Are you certain that the figure had a knife before it reached the coffee table?”

  “Objected to, as already asked and answered a dozen different times,” Burger said.

  “I’ll let him answer this one question,” Judge Markham ruled, leaning forward and staring steadily at Duncan.

  “Yes,” Duncan said, “he had a knife in his hand.”

  “You’re certain of the identity of the figure you saw?” Mason asked.

  “I am.”

  “It was the defendant?”

  “It was.”

  “How was he dressed?”

  “Only in a nightshirt.”

  “His feet were bare?”

  “Yes.”

  “How close was he to you when you first saw him distinctly?”

  “He crossed in front of my window.”

  “And threw a shadow on your face?”

  “Yes.”

  “But at that time you couldn’t see him distinctly. You were in bed and you wakened from a sound sleep, is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “How far away was he when you first saw him clearly?”

  “I can’t tell you exactly.”

  “Can you point out on the map?”

  “Yes, he was approximately here.”

  Mason marked the spot with a crayon, then, by referring to the scale of the map, said, “In other words, he was approximately thirty-five feet away?”

  “It may have been that, yes.”

  “His back was to you?”

  “Yes, I believe it was.”

  “And yet you recognized him?”

  “I recognized him .”

  “You understand the importance of being absolutely correct in your testimony?”

  “I do.”

  “You understand the seriousness of this trial?”

  “Certainly.”

  “And yet you are willing to swear positively that this figure which you saw, wearing only a nightgown, a figure walking away from you, at a distance of thirty-five feet, and in the moonlight, was the defendant?”

  “I do.”

  “You looked at the clock when you got up?”

  “Yes.”

  “And again when you came back to bed?”

  “I think so, yes.”

  “What time was it when you first got up?”

  “Exactly three o’clock.”

  “What time was it when you came back to bed?”

  “Why, just about the same time, I don’t suppose over thirty seconds had elapsed.”

  “And you noticed the hands of the clock for the second time, just before you got in bed?”

  “Yes.”

  “As a matter of fact, wasn’t it quarter past twelve?”

  “No.”

  “When you first reported what you had seen, didn’t you place the time at quarter past twelve?”

  “I may have.”

  “At that time, your recollections were more vivid and fresh than they are now, were they not?”

  “No.”

  “They weren’t?”

  “No.”

  “Do I understand you to say that your recollection becomes more vivid with the passage of time?”

  “It does in this case, yes.”

  “Because when you learned the killing must have taken place at approximately three o’clock you transposed the position of the hands of the clock in your mind so that you could be a star witness in this case and. . .”

  Judge Markham pounded with his gavel. “I think, Counselor, that about the star witness is unnecessary.”

  “I wish to show the motive of the witness.”

  “It isn’t so!” Duncan shouted. “I know now that it was three o’clock in the morning. There’s no chance it was quarter past twelve.”

  “Your eyesight’s good?” Mason asked.

  “Very good.

  “And it was on the morning of the fourteenth?”

  “Certainly.”

  “You wore glasses, didn’t you?”

  “I have worn glasses for thirty-five years.”

  “And you were wearing glasses habitually during the period covered in your testimony?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you put on your glasses when you got up to look out of the window?”

  “No.... Yes, I guess I did. I think I must have.”

  “Why did you put them on?”

  “To see with, of course.”

  Once more there was a titter which ran around the courtroom, but this time, something in the tense attitude of Perry Mason caused the titter to subside even before the bailiff could rap for order.

  “In other words, then,” Mason said, “when you were aroused by a marauder prowling about your room in the dead of night, the very first thing you did after wakening was to put on your glasses so that you could see to better advantage, is that right?”

  “Well, what’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing is wrong with it, Mr. Duncan, I am asking you if that is what happened.

  “Yes, I guess so.”

  “In other words, you knew that your eyes would be virtually valueless without the glasses.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “No,” Mason said, smiling. “you didn’t say it, but your actions said it more plainly than words. You put on your glasses because you knew you couldn’t see without them. Isn’t that right?”

  “I knew they’d help me to see.”

  “You knew that you couldn’t see clearly any great distance without them, didn’t you?”

  “Well, my eyesight’s a lot better with them on than with them off.”

  “And with your glasses your eyesight was quite good?” Mason asked.

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Would you say it was perfect?”

  “I’d say that it was normal.”

  “Perfectly normal?”

  “If you want to express it that way, yes.”

  “Then,” Mason said, pointing his forefinger at Duncan, “why was it that, immediately after you had reported to the district attorney what you had seen, you were sent to an oculist to have new glasses fitted?”

  Burger shouted, “He wasn’t instructed to do any such thing! I resent that insinuation!”

  “Why did you do it?” Mason asked Duncan.

  “I didn’t say that I did it.”

  Mason, pounding his fist on the counsel table, said, “I say you did it, then. Why did you do it?”

  Duncan squirmed uncomfortably. “Well,” he said, “I wanted to, that’s all.”

  “Why did you want to?”

  “I’d been wanting to for some time and hadn’t had a chance to do it. I’d been too busy. You understand I’m a very busy attorney.”

  “Oh,” Mason said, “you’d been putting it off, then, for some time.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re quite busy?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long have you been quite busy?”

  “For years.”

  “And did you put off getting these glasses during the time you’d been busy?”

  “During much of it, yes.”

  “You’d put off getting these glasses for years, then, is that right?”

  “Yes.... No, that isn’t what I meant.”

  “Never mind what you meant. What are the facts of the case? How long had you put off getting new glasses?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “When were you last fitted for glasses before the fourteenth of this month?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  “As much as five years ago?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “As much as ten years ago?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “And the very first thing you did after telling the district attorney what you saw was to go out and consult an oculist and get glasses. Isn’t that right?”

  “It wasn’t the first thing I did.”

  “It was just about the first thing you did, wasn’t it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It was that evening, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, it was that evening.”

  “And did you find an oculist in his office on that evening?”

  “Yes.”

  Mason’s smile was fiendish. “You found him there, Mr. Duncan, because you had previously telephoned and made an appointment with him, isn’t that right?”

  Duncan hesitated a minute and then said, “No, I didn’t telephone to him.”

  Mason frowned for a moment, then triumphantly asked, “Who did telephone to him?”

  Blaine jumped to his feet. “Your Honor,” he said, “that’s objected to as incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial. It makes no difference who telephoned to the oculist.”

  “It does, in view of the answers the witness has been giving to these questions,” Perry Mason said. “This is a witness who is an attorney. I have a right to impeach his testimony by showing the condition of his eyesight at the time in question. This witness has admitted that he needed glasses and has also admitted that the glasses he put on were insufficient and had been insufficient for years. I also have a right to show his bias and interest, as developed by his evasive answers.”

  “I think,” Judge Markham said, “I’ll permit him to answer the question. Who telephoned the oculist, Mr. Duncan, if you know?”

  Duncan hesitated.

  “Go on,” Mason said, “answer the question.

  In a voice which was barely audible, Duncan said, “Mr. Blaine.”

  “The deputy district attorney,” Mason inquired, “who has just finished making such a vociferous objection that my question was incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial?”

  A roar of laughter swept the courtroom. Judge Markham frowned, then permitted himself a half-smile.

  “That will do, Counselor,” he said sternly, then, looking at the clock, “It has approached the hour of adjournment. I think we have made very good progress for today. Court will adjourn until tomorrow. The Court is going to remand the jury to the custody of the sheriff, who will keep them in his charge and permit no person to approach them or address them, nor will he address them himself, except upon matters not connected in any way with the case, Court is adjourned until ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

  Chapter 20

  Mason, pacing back and forth across his office, looked frowningly at Della Street. The indirect lights failed to soften the scowl lines which were furrowed across the lawyer’s forehead.

  “Damn it, Della,” he said, “the thing doesn’t click.”

  “Why doesn’t it click?”

  “I can’t understand what’s wrong with Mrs. Kent.”

  “You haven’t heard anything from her?”

  “Not a thing. You’re c that Pritchard met her?”

  “Absolutely. He was making a rush play for me, but he dropped me like a hot potato when I told him about Mrs. Kent’s money.”

  “Good looking?”

  “I’ll say.”

  “Make your heart go pitty-pat?” he asked.

  “Not mine, but he’s a swell looker. He looks like a Venus de Hollywood.

  “Hair?”

  “Wonderful, dark rich brown, beautifully marceled. Lights in it. And they match his eyes. Boyish face, without a line in it. A little trick mustache. He wears his clothes nicely and his lips are fascinating, particularly when he talks. You can see them forming every word so distinctly. And when he dances, he makes you feel like thistledown.”

  “She seemed to be falling?”

  “Falling is right. She was looking at him with her heart in her eyes.”

  “How the devil can a woman get her heart in her eyes?”

  “Want me to show you?” she challenged.

  He took a quick step toward her. Her eyes studied his face appraisingly, “Strictly for the sake of the business?” she added.

  His arm was reaching for her when knuckles made a gentle tapping motion on the corridor door. Mason froze into rigid immobility. The knock was repeated.

  “Bet you five bucks that’s Doris Sully Kent,” he said.

  Della Street started for the law library. “I knew something would happen,” she remarked, jerking the door open. “Be sure to switch on the loud speaker, Chief. I’ve got pencils and notebook in there.”

  She closed the door behind her with a slam.

  Mason stepped to the corridor door. Doris Sully Kent smiled up at him.

  “I knew I’d find you here, Mr. Mason.”

  “Come in,” he invited.

  She entered the room, smiled sweetly at him, placed herself in a chair so that her blonde hair showed to advantage against the black leather.

  “Working hard?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry I interrupted you, but I thought you might be interested.”

  “You have a lawyer?”

  “Not me. Not now.”

  “Well?” he asked.

  She extended a gloved forefinger and traced little curving lines along the skirt where it was stretched tightly over her leg. Her eyes followed the moving tip of her forefinger. While she spoke she did not once glance at him.

  “I’ve been thinking things over. I’m willing to admit I started that Santa Barbara action because I knew Pete was going to get married again, and I didn’t see any reason why I should let him dissipate his property on some gold-digger. I understand the woman is a nurse. Think of it, Peter Kent marrying a nurse!”

  “What’s wrong with a nurse?” Mason asked.

  “Everything,” she replied, “so far as Peter Kent is concerned. She has to work for a living.”

  “And a mighty fine thing,” Mason said. “I like women who work for a living.”

  “It isn’t that. It’s not that I’m snobbish. It’s the fact that she’s after Peter Kent’s money.

  “I don’t agree with you.”

  “We don’t need to discuss it, do we?”

  “You brought it up.”

  “Well, I was just trying to explain to you why I had a change of heart.”

  “Do I understand you’re trying to tell me you’ve experienced a change of heart?”

  “Yes.”