“Go right ahead,” Mason said.

  The witness consulted his notebook, took a finely marked scale from his pocket, then looked up at the judge and nodded. “These two,” he said, indicating two photographs, “are both photographs of prints made by the right index finger of the man I assume was Roger P. Cartman, since I found his fingerprints on the wheel chair.”

  Mason said, “Will you mark these right on the photographs, so there can be no mistake, with a cross in pen and ink?”

  The witness, looking bored and contemptuous, took a pen from his pocket, made a cross on each of the photographs.

  Mason triumphantly removed the paper and said, “Now, then, Mr. Borge, since you’ve qualified as an expert, and since you’ve said that any high school pupil knows that it’s impossible to confuse the fingerprints of two different people, will you kindly tell me how it happens that you have just identified a fingerprint made from the right index finger of Carl Moar, deceased, as being identical with a print of the right index finger of the man whom you have stated was Roger P. Cartman?”

  Borge stared with incredulous eyes at the annotations on the two photographs. Scudder, jumping to his feet, hurried to the side of the witness.

  Judge Romley regarded Mason with a puzzled frown. “Do I understand, Mr. Mason, that it is your contention the witness has confused two photographs?”

  “No,” Mason said with a grin, “what your Honor should understand is that when my learned friend, the deputy district attorney, discovers the true significance of the testimony of this witness, the case against Anna Moar will be dismissed. Otherwise, the Prosecution will find itself confronted with the necessity of explaining to a jury in this case just how it happens the man the witnesses have sworn this defendant murdered on the night of the sixth instantly left fingerprints in a San Francisco flat on the afternoon of the seventh.”

  “There’s trickery here someplace, your Honor,” Scudder said.

  Mason smiled. “If Counsel is interested in discovering just where the trickery lies, I can give him two clues. One is that when Della Street stepped out on deck on the evening of the sixth, she inadvertently took a position almost exactly where Aileen Fell had been standing before she ran up to the boat deck. The second one is that at the time when the decedent, Moar, was about to sail from Honolulu, someone opened Moar’s locked suitcase and substituted a picture of Winnie Joyce, whom Miss Newberry greatly resembles, for a photograph of Belle Newberry. As for the rest, Counsel will have to figure it out for himself.”

  Scudder bent forward to engage in a whispered conversation with Borge. Then, in a voice which showed all too plainly his bewilderment, said, “May I ask the Court for a brief recess? I wish to correlate certain facts.”

  Judge Romley said, “Under the circumstances, I am quite certain there will be no objection to a brief continuance, Mr. Mason?”

  Mason said, “I will not object to a continuance on only one condition, your Honor. The deputy district attorney has accused me of concealing witnesses. However, I have reason to believe that the deputy district attorney may have in custody a witness who has heretofore been subpoenaed by me as a witness for the Defense. I refer to an Evelyn Whiting, who acted as nurse for Roger Cartman.”

  Judge Romley glanced at Scudder. “Do you have such a witness in custody?” he asked.

  Scudder was visibly embarrassed.

  “Why, your Honor,” he said, “I have been searching for Miss Whiting. She was apprehended by officers something over an hour ago. She is in my office. I have been interrogating her, but so far have had little success. I had no idea that she was a witness for Mr. Mason.”

  “You will find that she has been regularly served with a subpoena,” Mason said, “and a return of service has been made and is on file with the clerk of this court. Under the circumstances, I demand an opportunity to examine her before this case is continued.”

  “Is there any objection?” Judge Romley asked Scudder.

  “Why, no, your Honor. I can only repeat I had no idea this woman was a witness.”

  “How long will it take to get her here?” Judge Romley asked.

  “Just a moment or two. She is at present held in the witness room. I think the bailiff can bring her here almost at once.”

  While the bailiff was summoning Evelyn Whiting, Judge Romley regarded Perry Mason in puzzled scrutiny.

  “Do I understand, Mr. Mason,” he asked, “that it is your contention that the body which I understand was found yesterday, and which has been indentified as Carl Moar is not really the body of Carl Moar?”

  “No, your Honor,” Mason said. “I gave an interview to the press last night in which I asserted that the body could not be that of Carl Moar. I did this solely because I wanted to force the Prosecution to use every means possible to get Moar’s fingerprints.”

  “Then, if that was Moar’s body, how do you account for the fact that Moar’s fingerprints also appear on the wheel chair in this flat—and, I take it, upon other objects in the flat?”

  “Unless this witness can explain matters,” Mason said, “I think I will leave it to my learned friend, the deputy district attorney, to do the explaining. After all, it’s his case.”

  Scudder said testily, “I think counsel understands that the district attorney’s office will welcome any information which will throw light upon this mysterious affair.”

  Judge Romley was about to say something when the bailiff brought Evelyn Whiting into the courtroom. She was sworn by the clerk and took the witness stand, her face showing plainly that she was laboring under a nervous strain.

  Mason glanced up at Judge Romley and said, “I think if Court and Counsel will bear with me in what may perhaps be a somewhat unusual form of examination, we can clear this matter up. Miss Whiting, you understand that you have taken an oath to tell the truth; that any failure to do so may subject you to a perjury prosecution?”

  “Yes.”

  Mason said, “You have been keeping company with a man whom you knew as Morgan Eves for some time?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you know that he had a criminal record?”

  She hesitated for a moment, then said, “Yes.”

  “And you had previously known Carl Moar for some considerable period of time?”

  “Yes.”

  “He had, on at least one occasion, asked you to marry him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now, Morgan Eves was arrested in Los Angeles and tried on a murder charge?”

  “Yes, he was,” she said quickly, “and he was acquitted.”

  “Yes,” Mason said, “and Carl Moar was on that jury, wasn’t he?”

  “Why … yes, he was.”

  “And when you saw that Carl Moar was on the jury, you thought that you could do the man you loved a good turn by approaching Carl Moar and asking him to do everything he could to get a verdict of acquittal?”

  She hesitated.

  “And,” Mason asked, “didn’t you offer Moar a bribe? Come now, Miss Whiting, the facts are all available. Your part in this matter has been rather culpable. You had better tell the truth.”

  “No,” she said, “I did not.”

  “Now,” Mason went on calmly, “after Moar discharged his duties on this jury and after Morgan Eves had been acquitted, Mr. Moar found himself in the possession of some twenty-five thousand dollars. He went to the Hawaiian Islands and was enjoying a vacation in Honolulu. Unfortunately, however, Mr. Moar was rather naive in some respects and had made no effort to conceal his sudden acquisition of wealth, or to account for it. He merely changed his name and proceeded to take up a new life.

  “Now, Mr. Van Densie, the attorney who represented Morgan Eves, found himself under investigation on a charge of jury bribing. The district attorney launched a sweeping investigation. It became important to Mr. Van Densie, as well as Mr. Eves, to keep the grand jury from calling on Mr. Moar as a witness. Mr. Moar’s attempts to take a new identity were sufficient, so far as a mere neighborly interest was concerned, but would hardly have withstood the investigation of trained detectives. Therefore, you were selected to go to Honolulu and arrange with Mr. Moar for a more effective disappearance. In order to explain the trip you were making to your sister, you told her you were going on your honeymoon. Mr. Eves, whom you secretly married, found himself very busy at the moment, assisting Mr. Van Densie conceal matters from the investigators. He actually sailed on the ship with you, but after it had left the dock, climbed over the side on a rope ladder and returned on a speed launch. You went to Honolulu, explained that situation to Mr. Moar, and arranged with him for a complete disappearance.

  “This scheme had been carefully thought out by Van Densie, Morgan Eves, and perhaps in part, by you. You knew that a Roger P. Cartman had been in an automobile accident and sustained a broken neck. You purchased a ticket in the name of Roger P. Cartman on the same steamship as that on which Mr. Moar traveled under the name of Carl Newberry. From time to time, Mr. Moar would surreptitiously visit your cabin. You would place a steel and leather harness, or brace, upon his neck so that it concealed much of his face, put on huge dark glasses which concealed his eyes, and wheel him about the deck in a wheel chair.

  “On the night of the sixth you, having familiarized yourself with the custom of Aileen Fell of being on deck immediately after dinner, and feeling that this was a propitious time because of the storm, arranged to have Mr. Moar commit a supposed suicide by shooting himself and jumping overboard. You expected that the sound of revolver shots would attract Miss Fell’s attention so that she could see what apparently was the body of a man hurtling into the ocean.

  “However, Miss Fell’s curiosity brought her up to the boat deck; so in place of having Moar apparently a suicide, he seemed to be the victim of a murder, and his wife was accused of the murder.

  “After Moar’s supposed plunge over the side, he went to your stateroom, where he became Roger P. Cartman, the invalid, and was actually carried off the steamer in a wheel chair, and taken to the flat on Stockton Boulevard.

  “However, where the supposed suicide of Mr. Moar would have passed with only a small amount of notoriety, the supposed murder of Moar was an entirely different affair, and the situation became complicated when I dashed to Los Angeles and proved that Mr. Moar had not embezzled money from his former employer, the Products Refining Company. Therefore, Mr. Eves decided it would be better for you to leave the flat at Stockton Boulevard, since he felt some attempt might be made to trace Roger P. Cartman.

  “Now, he took you to a cabin up in the Santa Cruz Mountains, Miss Whiting. But did you know that after he had taken you there, he returned to the flat at Stockton Boulevard; that he then told Mr. Moar he had arranged for another place of concealment, placed him aboard a yacht, took him out by the Farallons, cruised about until he found one of the life rings which had been tossed overboard from the steamer the night before, shot Mr. Moar, stripped him of his clothes, placed his body in the life ring, and left it floating on the ocean, knowing that it would be discovered within a day or two.”

  Mason paused, and Evelyn Whiting, gripping the arms of the chair with her gloved hands, moistened her lips and said nothing.

  “You must have realized what had happened,” Mason went on, “when you read that Moar’s body had been found. Now then, Miss Whiting, it’s one thing to resort to jury bribing to shield a man whom you love. It’s quite another thing to become involved as an accessory on a murder charge. I think it’s time for you to tell the truth.”

  She half rose from the chair, dropped back into it, looked helplessly about her, then slowly nodded her head. She raised her eyes to Judge Romley and said, “It’s true. I thought Morgan was innocent when he was being tried in Los Angeles. I thought the case was a frame-up against him, so I was willing to do everything I could. Mr. Van Densie said that if Morgan should be convicted, the district attorney would be able to frame a lot of Morgan’s business associates. He said these men had made up a purse to help my husband, and would give five thousand dollars for a hung jury, or twenty-five thousand for an outright acquittal. I explained the situation to Carl. I gave him my word that Morgan was innocent, and he managed to swing the jury. I made Carl Moar think the whole case was a frame-up, because I thought it was a frame-up.”

  Mason said, “Now, you purchased a picture frame on the seventh, Miss Whiting.”

  “Yes,” she said, “Carl was very much attached to his stepdaughter. In order to keep from being called as a witness, it was necessary for him to pretend to commit suicide and he knew that it would be years before he could ever see Belle again. He wanted her picture to keep with him. But he didn’t want his wife to know he’d taken this picture because that might make her suspicious of the suicide. So he switched pictures in the frame. Unfortunately, Mrs. Moar found out the pictures had been changed almost as soon as Carl had made the switch.”

  “And you were the one who sent Carl Moar the note on the evening of the sixth?” Mason asked.

  “Yes. We had it all planned. You see, we rigged up a dummy which we could throw overboard, and I left it up in the ship’s hospital. On the night of the sixth I waited until Miss Fell had come out on deck. Then I sent word to Carl. He was to come on deck. We were to drag the dummy to the rail and fire a couple of shots from a revolver to attract Miss Fell’s attention. Then we were to pitch the dummy overboard and leave Carl Moar’s gun where it would be found on the boat deck. Carl was to come down to my stateroom, climb into bed and put on the goggles and head brace, which would make it almost impossible to recognize him, particularly since we’d made such a careful build-up.”

  “And how did it happen your dress got caught on one of the cleats?” Mason asked.

  She said without hesitation, “Mrs. Moar made a mistake, leaving her wet clothes where they could be found. It showed she’d been on deck. If they searched my stateroom, I didn’t want them to find my wet clothes as evidence. I threw my dinner dress out of the porthole. By that time, the ship had turned around and the wind was blowing a gale. It caught my dress, tore it out of my hand, and sent it flying up in the air. I suppose a part of it caught on the cleat and the rest tore loose.

  “Miss Fell had seen me dragging the dummy across the boat deck and your secretary, Miss Street, happened to be standing just below. She looked up and saw me as I pushed the dummy overboard and fired the second shot. I knew that she had run in and telephoned that a man was overboard, and I knew that sooner or later she’d be made to tell what she’d seen. You see, she was looking up into the rain, and therefore couldn’t see my features, but I was looking down and could see hers. The rain was in her eyes. It wasn’t in mine.

  “Please understand me,” she pleaded, “I was willing to help the man I loved because I thought he was innocent. Then this morning when I read the papers, I knew why he’d left me up there in the mountains. He’d gone back and tricked Carl to his death. He figured that would keep Carl’s testimony from ever being given and that the murder would be charged to Mrs. Moar. I was sick. I loved him—I still love him—I can’t protect him now, though I see him for what he really is—even—I can’t stand back of him any more— Tell me, Mr. Mason, since you seem to know all about it, he did—kill Carl, didn’t he?”

  Her eyes, pleading and anxious, hoping against hope, rested on the lawyer’s face.

  “Yes,” Mason said, “and he made the fatal mistake of leaving high-laced shoes on Moar’s body. You see, when Carl Moar was supposed to have gone overboard, he was dressed in a tuxedo. As soon as I saw the high-laced shoes on Moar’s body I realized what must have happened. The fact that the bullet in the body had been fired from a gun other than Moar’s gun was further convincing evidence. I’m sorry, Miss Whiting, but that’s what happened. And I’m not altogether blameless. I should have deduced the truth sooner than I did. Knowing that Moar had been on a jury in Los Angeles, that he had been instrumental in getting the defendant acquitted; that Baldwin Van Densie, a notorious jury briber, had been the attorney representing that defendant and discovering that Carl had come into the unexplained possesion of approximately twenty-five thousand dollars immediately after the verdict had been returned, should have been all I needed, particularly when one adds to that the fact that Belle Newberry’s picture had disappeared from a suitcase to which only Mr. Moar had the key, and the lock showed no evidence of having been tampered with. I’m afraid, Miss Whiting, that the peculiar manner in which the case developed threw me off the track and prevented me from saving Carl Moar’s life.”

  She nodded. Her lips quivered. “I loved Morgan,” she said. “I believed in him. I … trusted him.” She started to sob.

  Mason’s voice was filled with sympathy as he said to Judge Romley, “If the Court please, won’t it be more merciful to take a recess?”

  Chapter 19

  Mason, Della Street, Paul Drake, Mrs. Moar, Belle Newberry and Roy Hungerford sat in Mason’s suite at the hotel, champagne glasses on the table, the neck of a ceremonial bottle of champagne protruding from a bucket of cracked ice.

  “What I don’t see,” Hungerford said, “is how the devil you ever figured it out.”

  Mason shook his head and said, “It will always be a matter of humiliation that I didn’t figure it out sooner. Marian Whiting told us her sister had seen Carl on the street in Los Angeles. Evelyn Whiting said she hadn’t seen him for years until she recognized him on the ship. She said he had told her he was going to commit suicide when she met him on deck. Della Street said she had seen him coming from Evelyn Whiting’s cabin. Mrs. Moar, herself, told me that whenever Evelyn Whiting appeared on deck with her patient in a wheel chair, Carl Moar was nowhere to be found. You, Belle, told me that your stepfather had been on one of Van Densie’s juries in Los Angeles and had been able to swing the jury into a verdict of acquittal. You said that had been two or three months ago, and it was at just about that time Carl suddenly became affluent. But, above all, I should have known the truth when Morgan Eves warned me there was a surprise witness who would jeopardize my case. Then, when I discovered Della was that witness, I should have known at once what had happened. Eves could only have known it through Evelyn Whiting and she could only have known it because she looked down and saw Della Street at the rail on the lower deck.