has been committed by the prisoner at the bar--Clyde Griffiths.
They CHARGE that he willfully, and with malice and cruelty and
deception, murdered and then sought to conceal forever from the
knowledge and the justice of the world, the body of Roberta Alden,
the daughter of a farmer who has for years resided near the village
of Biltz, in Mimico County. They CHARGE" (and here Clyde, because
of whispered advice from Jephson, was leaning back as comfortably
as possible and gazing as imperturbably as possible upon the face
of Mason, who was looking directly at him) "that this same Clyde
Griffiths, before ever this crime was committed by him, plotted for
weeks the plan and commission of it, and then, with malice
aforethought and in cold blood, executed it.
"And in charging these things, the people of the State of New York
expect to, and will, produce before you substantiations of every
one of them. You will be given facts, and of these facts you, not
I, are to be the sole judge."
And here he paused once more, and shifting to a different physical
position while the eager audience crowded and leaned forward,
hungry and thirsty for every word he should utter, he now lifted
one arm and dramatically pushing back his curly hair, resumed:
"Gentlemen, it will not take me long to picture, nor will you fail
to perceive for yourselves as this case proceeds, the type of girl
this was whose life was so cruelly blotted out beneath the waters
of Big Bittern. All the twenty years of her life" (and Mason knew
well that she was twenty-three and two years older than Clyde) "no
person who ever knew her ever said one word in criticism of her
character. And no evidence to that effect, I am positive, will be
introduced in this trial. Somewhat over a year ago--on July 19--
she went to the city of Lycurgus, in order that by working with her
own hands she might help her family." (And here the sobs of her
parents and sisters and brothers were heard throughout the
courtroom.)
"Gentlemen," went on Mason, and from this point carrying on the
picture of Roberta's life from the time she first left home to join
Grace Marr until, having met Clyde on Crum Lake and fallen out with
her friend and patrons, the Newtons, because of him, she accepted
his dictum that she live alone, amid strange people, concealing the
suspicious truth of this from her parents, and then finally
succumbing to his wiles--the letters she had written him from Biltz
detailing every single progressive step in this story. And from
there, by the same meticulous process, he proceeded to Clyde--his
interest in the affairs of Lycurgus society and the rich and
beautiful Miss X, who because of a purely innocent and kindly, if
infatuated, indication on her part that he might hope to aspire to
her hand--had unwittingly evoked in him a passion which had been
the cause of the sudden change in his attitude and emotions toward
Roberta, resulting, as Mason insisted he would show, in the plot
that had resulted in Roberta's death.
"But who is the individual," he suddenly and most dramatically
exclaimed at this point, "against whom I charge all these things?
There he sits! Is he the son of wastrel parents--a product of the
slums--one who had been denied every opportunity for a proper or
honorable conception of the values and duties of a decent and
respectable life? Is he? On the contrary. His father is of the
same strain that has given Lycurgus one of its largest and most
constructive industries--the Griffiths Collar & Shirt Company. He
was poor--yes--no doubt of that. But not more so than Roberta
Alden--and her character appears not to have been affected by her
poverty. His parents in Kansas City, Denver, and before that
Chicago and Grand Rapids, Michigan, appear to have been unordained
ministers of the proselytizing and mission-conducting type-people
who, from all I can gather, are really, sincerely religious and
right-principled in every sense. But this, their oldest son, and
the one who might have been expected to be deeply influenced by
them, early turned from their world and took to a more garish life.
He became a bell-boy in a celebrated Kansas City hotel, the Green-
Davidson."
And now he proceeded to explain that Clyde had ever been a rolling
stone--one who, by reason of some quirk of temperament, perhaps,
preferred to wander here and there. Later, as he now explained, he
had been given an important position as head of a department in the
well-known factory of his uncle at Lycurgus. And then gradually he
was introduced into the circles in which his uncle and his children
were familiar. And his salary was such that he could afford to
keep a room in one of the better residences of the city, while the
girl he had slain lived in a mean room in a back street.
"And yet," he continued, "how much has been made here of the
alleged youth of this defendant?" (Here he permitted himself a
scornful smile.) "He has been called by his counsel and others in
the newspapers a boy, over and over again. He is not a boy. He is
a bearded man. He has had more social and educational advantages
than any one of you in the jury box. He has traveled. In hotels
and clubs and the society with which he was so intimately connected
in Lycurgus, he has been in contact with decent, respectable, and
even able and distinguished people. Why, as a matter of fact, at
the time of his arrest two months ago, he was part of as smart a
society and summer resort group as this region boasts. Remember
that! His mind is a mature, not, an immature one. It is fully
developed and balanced perfectly.
"Gentlemen, as the state will soon proceed to prove," he went on,
"it was no more than four months after his arrival in Lycurgus that
this dead girl came to work for the defendant in the department of
which he was the head. And it was not more than two months after
that before he had induced her to move from the respectable and
religious home which she had chosen in Lycurgus, to one concerning
which she knew nothing and the principal advantage of which, as he
saw it, was that it offered secrecy and seclusion and freedom from
observation for that vile purpose which already he entertained in
regard to her.
"There was a rule of the Griffiths Company, as we will later show
in this trial, which explains much--and that was that no superior
officer or head of any department was permitted to have anything to
do with any girls working under him, or for the factory, in or out
of the factory. It was not conducive to either the morals or the
honor of those working for this great company, and they would not
allow it. And shortly after coming there, this man had been
instructed as to that rule. But did that deter him? Did the so
recent and favorable consideration of his uncle in any way deter
him? Not in the least. Secrecy! Secrecy! From the very
beginning! Seduction! Seduction! The secret and intended and
immoral and illegal and socially unwarranted and condemned use of
her body outside the regenerative and ennobling pale of matrimony!
"That was his purpose, gentlemen! But was it generally known by
any one in Lycurgus or elsewhere that such a relationship as this
existed between him and Roberta Alden? Not a soul! NOT A SOUL!,
as far as I have been able to ascertain, was ever so much as
partially aware of this relationship until after this girl was
dead. Not a soul! Think of that!
"Gentlemen of the jury," and here his voice took on an almost
reverential tone, "Roberta Alden loved this defendant with all the
strength of her soul. She loved him with that love which is the
crowning mystery of the human brain and the human heart, that
transcends in its strength and its weakness all fear of shame or
punishment from even the immortal throne above. She was a true and
human and decent and kindly girl--a passionate and loving girl.
And she loved as only a generous and trusting and self-sacrificing
soul can love. And loving so, in the end she gave to him all that
any woman can give the man she loves.
"Friends, this thing has happened millions of times in this world
of ours, and it will happen millions and millions of times in the
days to come. It is not new and it will never be old.
"But in January or February last, this girl, who is now dead in her
grave, was compelled to come to this defendant, Clyde Griffiths,
and tell him that she was about to become a mother. We shall prove
to you that then and later she begged him to go away with her and
make her his wife.
"But did he? Would he? Oh, no! For by that time a change had
come over the dreams and the affections of Clyde Griffiths. He had
had time to discover that the name of Griffiths in Lycurgus was one
that would open the doors of Lycurgus exclusive circles--that the
man who was no one in Kansas City or Chicago--was very much of a
person here, and that it would bring him in contact with girls of
education and means, girls who moved far from the sphere to which
Roberta Alden belonged. Not only that, but he had found one girl
to whom, because of her beauty, wealth, position, he had become
enormously attached and beside her the little farm and factory girl
in the pathetically shabby and secret room to which he had assigned
her, looked poor indeed--good enough to betray but not good enough
to marry. And he would not." Here he paused, but only for a
moment, then went on:
"But at no point have I been able to find the least modification or
cessation of any of these social activities on his part which so
entranced him. On the contrary, from January to July fifth last,
and after--yes, even after she was finally compelled to say to him
that unless he could take her away and marry her, she would have to
appeal to the sense of justice in the community in which they
moved, and after she was cold and dead under the waters of Big
Bittern--dances, lawn fetes, automobile parties, dinners, gay trips
to Twelfth Lake and Bear Lake, and without a thought, seemingly,
that her great moral and social need should modify his conduct in
any way."
And here he paused and gazed in the direction of Belknap and
Jephson, who in turn, were not sufficiently disturbed or concerned
to do more than smile, first at him and then at each other,
although Clyde, terrorized by the force and the vehemence of it
all, was chiefly concerned to note how much of exaggeration and
unfairness was in all this.
But even as he was thinking so, Mason was continuing with: "But by
this time, gentlemen, as I have indicated, Roberta Alden had become
insistent that Griffiths make her his wife. And this he promised
to do. Yet, as all the evidence here will show, he never intended
to do anything of the kind. On the contrary, when her condition
became such that he could no longer endure her pleas or the danger
which her presence in Lycurgus unquestionably spelled for him, he
induced her to go home to her father's house, with the suggestion,
apparently, that she prepare herself by making some necessary
clothes, against the day when he would come for her and remove her
to some distant city where they would not be known, yet where as
his wife she could honorably bring their child into the world. And
according to her letters to him, as I will show, that was to have
been in three weeks from the time she departed for her home in
Biltz. But did he come for her as he had promised? No, he never
did.
"Eventually, and solely because there was no other way out, he
permitted her to come to him--on July sixth last--exactly two days
before her death. But not before--but wait!-- In the meantime, or
from June fifth to July sixth, he allowed her to brood in that
little, lonely farm-house on the outskirts of Biltz in Mimico
County, with the neighbors coming in to watch and help her make
some clothes, which even then she did not dare announce as her
bridal trousseau. And she suspected and feared that this defendant
would fail her. For daily, and sometimes twice daily, she wrote
him, telling him of her fears and asking him to assure her by
letter or word in some form that he would come and take her away.
"But did he even do that? Never by letter! NEVER! Oh, no,
gentlemen, oh, no! On the contrary some telephone messages--things
that could not be so easily traced or understood. And these so few
and brief that she herself complained bitterly of his lack of
interest and consideration for her at this time. So much so that
at the end of five weeks, growing desperate, she wrote" (and here
Mason picked from a collection of letters on the table behind him a
particular letter, and read): "'This is to tell you that unless I
hear from you either by telephone or letter before noon Friday, I
will come to Lycurgus and the world will know how you have treated
me.' Those are the words, gentlemen, that this poor girl was at
last compelled to write.
"But did Clyde Griffiths want the world to know how he had treated
her? Of course not! And there and then began to form in his mind
a plan by which he could escape exposure and seal Roberta Alden's
lips forever. And, gentlemen, the state will prove that he did so
close her mouth."
At this point Mason produced a map of the Adirondacks which he had
had made for the purpose, and on which in red ink were traced the
movements of Clyde up to and after her death--up to the time of his
arrest at Big Bear. Also, in doing this, he paused to tell the
jury of Clyde's well-conceived plan of hiding his identity, the
various false registrations, the two hats. Here also he explained
that on the train between Fonda and Utica, as again between Utica
and Grass Lake, he had not ridden in the same car with Roberta.
And then he announced:
"Don't forget, gentlemen, that although he had previously indicated
to Roberta that this was to be their wedding journey, he did not
want anybody to know that he was with his prospective bride--no,
not even after they had reached Big Bittern. For he was seeking,
not to marry but to find a wilderness in which to snuff out the
life of this girl of whom he had tired. But did that prevent him,
twenty-four and forty-eight hours before that time, from holding
her in his arms and repeating the promises he had no intention of
keeping? Did it? I will show you the registers of the two hotels
in which they stayed, and where, because of their assumed
approaching marriage, they occupied a single room together. Yet
the only reason it was forty-eight instead of twenty-four hours was
that he had made a mistake in regard to the solitude of Grass Lake.
Finding it brisk with life, the center of a summer religious
colony, he decided to leave and go to Big Bittern, which was more
lonely. And so you have the astounding and bitter spectacle,
gentlemen, of a supposedly innocent and highly misunderstood young
man dragging this weary and heart-sick girl from place to place, in
order to find a lake deserted enough in which to drown her. And
with her but four months from motherhood!
"And then, having arrived at last at one lake lonely enough,
putting her in a boat and taking her out from the inn where he had
again falsely registered as Mr. Clifford Golden and wife, to her
death. The poor little thing imagined that she was going for a
brief outing before that marriage of which he talked and which was
to seal and sanctify it. To seal and sanctify it! To seal and
sanctify, as closing waters seal and sanctify, but in no other way--
no other way. And with him walking, whole and sly--as a wolf from
its kill--to freedom, to marriage, to social and material and
affectionate bliss and superiority and ease, while she slept still
and nameless in her watery grave.
"But, oh, gentlemen, the ways of nature, or of God, and the
Providence that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we may! It is
man who proposes, but God--God--who disposes!
"The defendant is still wondering, I am sure, as to how I know that
she thought she was still going to be married after leaving the inn
at Big Bittern. And I have no doubt that he still has some
comforting thoughts to the effect that I cannot really and truly
know it. But how shrewd and deep must be that mind that would
foresee and forestall all the accidents and chances of life. For,
as he sits there now, secure in the faith that his counsel may be
able to extract him safely from this" (and at this Clyde sat bolt
upright, his hair tingling, and his hands concealed beneath the
table, trembling slightly), "he does not know that that girl, while
in her room in the Grass Lake Inn, had written her mother a letter,
which she had not had time to mail, and which was in the pocket of
her coat left behind because of the heat of the day, and because
she imagined she was coming back, of course. And which is here now
upon this table."
At this Clyde's teeth fairly chattered. He shook as with a chill.
To be sure, she had left her coat behind! And Belknap and Jephson
also sat up, wondering what this could be. How fatally, if at all,
could it mar or make impossible the plan of defense which they had
evolved? They could only wait and see.
"But in that letter," went on Mason, "she tells why she was up
there--to be married, no less" (and at this point Jephson and
Belknap, as well as Clyde, heaved an enormous sigh of relief--it
was directly in the field of their plan) "and within a day or two,"
continued Mason, thinking still that he was literally riddling
Clyde with fear. "But Griffiths, or Graham, of Albany, or
Syracuse, or anywhere, knew better. He knew he was not coming
back. And he took all of his belongings with him in that boat.
And all afternoon long, from noon until evening, he searched for a
spot on that lonely lake--a spot not easily observed from any point
of the shore, as we will show. And as evening fell, he found it.
And walking south through the woods afterwards, with a new straw
hat upon his head, a clean, dry bag in his hand, he imagined
himself to be secure. Clifford Golden was no more--Carl Graham was
no more--drowned--at the bottom of Big Bittern, along with Roberta
Alden. But Clyde Griffiths was alive and free, and on his way to
Twelfth Lake, to the society he so loved.
"Gentlemen, Clyde Griffiths killed Roberta Alden before he put her
in that lake. He beat her on the head and face, and he believed no
eye saw him. But, as her last death cry rang out over the water of
Big Bittern, there was a witness, and before the prosecution has
closed its case, that witness will be here to tell you the story."
Mason had no eye witness, but he could not resist this opportunity
to throw so disrupting a thought into the opposition camp.
And decidedly, the result was all that he expected, and more. For
Clyde, who up to this time and particularly since the thunderbolt
of the letter, had been seeking to face it all with an imperturbable
look of patient innocence, now stiffened and then wilted. A
witness! And here to testify! God! Then he, whoever he was,
lurking on the lone shore of the lake, had seen the unintended blow,
had heard her cries--had seen that he had not sought to aid her!
Had seen him swim to shore and steal away--maybe had watched him in
the woods as he changed his clothes. God! His hands now gripped
the sides of the chair, and his head went back with a jerk as if
from a powerful blow, for that meant death--his sure execution.
God! No hope now! His head dropped and he looked as though he
might lapse into a state of coma.
As to Belknap, Mason's revelation at first caused him to drop the
pencil with which he was making notes, then next to stare in a
puzzled and dumbfounded way, since they had no evidence wherewith
to forefend against such a smash as this-- But as instantly
recalling how completely off his guard he must look, recovering.
Could it be that Clyde might have been lying to them, after all--
that he had killed her intentionally, and before this unseen
witness? If so it might be necessary for them to withdraw from
such a hopeless and unpopular case, after all.
As for Jephson, he was for the moment stunned and flattened. And
through his stern and not easily shakable brain raced such thoughts
as--was there really a witness?--has Clyde lied?--then the die was
cast, for had he not already admitted to them that he had struck
Roberta, and the witness must have seen that? And so the end of
any plea of a change of heart. Who would believe that, after such
testimony as this?
But because of the sheer contentiousness and determination of his
nature, he would not permit himself to be completely baffled by
this smashing announcement. Instead he turned, and after surveying
the flustered and yet self-chastising Belknap and Clyde, commented:
"I don't believe it. He's lying, I think, or bluffing. At any
rate, we'll wait and see. It's a long time between now and our
side of the story. Look at all those witnesses there. And we can
cross-question them by the week, if we want to--until he's out of
office. Plenty of time to do a lot of things--find out about this
witness in the meantime. And besides, there's suicide, or there's
the actual thing that happened. We can let Clyde swear to what did
happen--a cataleptic trance--no courage to do it. It's not likely
anybody can see that at five hundred feet." And he smiled grimly.
At almost the same time he added, but not for Clyde's ears: "We
might be able to get him off with twenty years at the worst, don't
you think?"
Chapter 21
And then witnesses, witnesses, witnesses--to the number of one
hundred and twenty-seven. And their testimony, particularly that
of the doctors, three guides, the woman who heard Roberta's last
cry, all repeatedly objected to by Jephson and Belknap, for upon
such weakness and demonstrable error as they could point out
depended the plausibility of Clyde's daring defense. And all of
this carrying the case well into November, and after Mason had been
overwhelmingly elected to the judgeship which he had so craved.
And because of the very vigor and strife of the trial, the general
public from coast to coast taking more and more interest. And
obviously, as the days passed and the newspaper writers at the
trial saw it, Clyde was guilty. Yet he, because of the repeated
commands of Jephson, facing each witness who assailed him with calm
and even daring.
"Your name?"
"Titus Alden."
"You are the father of Roberta Alden?"
"Yes, sir."
"Now, Mr. Alden, just tell the jury how and under what circumstances
it was that your daughter Roberta happened to go to Lycurgus."
"Objected to. Irrelevant, immaterial, incompetent," snapped
Belknap.
"I'll connect it up," put in Mason, looking up at the judge, who
ruled that Titus might answer subject to a motion to strike out his
testimony if not "connected up."
"She went there to get work," replied Titus.
"And why did she go there to get work?"
Again objection, and the old man allowed to proceed after the legal
formalities had again been complied with.
"Well, the farm we have over there near Biltz hasn't ever paid so
very well, and it's been necessary for the children to help out and
Bobbie being the oldest--"
"Move to strike out!" "Strike it out."
"'Bobbie' was the pet name you gave your daughter Roberta, was it?"
"Objected to," etc., etc. "Exception."
"Yes, sir. 'Bobbie' was what we sometimes called her around there--
just Bobbie."
And Clyde listening intently and enduring without flinching the
stern and accusing stare of this brooding Priam of the farm,
wondering at the revelation of his former sweetheart's pet name.
He had nicknamed her "Bert"; she had never told him that at home
she was called "Bobbie."
And amid a fusillade of objections and arguments and rulings, Alden
continuing, under the leading of Mason, to recite how she had
decided to go to Lycurgus, after receipt of a letter from Grace
Marr, and stop with Mr. and Mrs. Newton. And after securing work
with the Griffiths Company, how little the family had seen of her
until June fifth last, when she had returned to the farm for a rest
and in order to make some clothes.
"No announcement of any plans for marriage?"
"None."
But she had written a number of long letters--to whom he did not
know at the time. And she had been depressed and sick. Twice he
had seen her crying, although he said nothing, knowing that she did
not want to be noticed. There had been a few telephone calls from
Lycurgus, the last on July fourth or fifth, the day before she
left, he was quite sure.
"And what did she have with her when she left?"
"Her bag and her little trunk."
"And would you recognize the bag that she carried, if you saw it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Is this the bag?" (A deputy assistant district attorney carrying
forward a bag and placing it on a small stand.)
And Alden, after looking at it and wiping his eyes with the back of
his hand, announcing: "Yes, sir."
And then most dramatically, as Mason intended in connection with
every point in this trial, a deputy assistant carrying in a small
trunk, and Titus Alden and his wife and daughters and sons all
crying at the sight of it. And after being identified by him as
Roberta's, the bag and then the trunk were opened in turn. And the
dresses made by Roberta, some underclothing, shoes, hats, the
toilet set given her by Clyde, pictures of her mother and father
and sister and brothers, an old family cookbook, some spoons and
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