He turned and turned them over, and then having decided that there was no trap here, replied: "Yes, I think these are the ones."
"Well, now," went on Mason, slyly, "in which one of these was it that you found that notice of Grass Lake Inn and the rate they charged up there? Wasn't it in this one?" And here he returned the identical stamped folder, on one page of which—and the same indicated by Mason's left forefinger—was the exact notice to which Clyde had called Roberta's attention. Also in the center was a map showing the Indian Chain together with Twelfth, Big Bittern, and Grass Lakes, as well as many others, and at the bottom of this map a road plainly indicated as leading from Grass Lake and Gun Lodge south past the southern end of Big Bittern to Three Mile Bay. Now seeing this after so long a time again, he suddenly decided that it must be his knowledge of this road that Mason was seeking to establish, and a little quivery and creepy now, he replied: "Yes, it may be the one. It looks like it. I guess it is, maybe."
"Don't you know that it is?" insisted Mason, darkly and dourly. "Can't you tell from reading that item there whether it is or not?"
"Well, it looks like it," replied Clyde, evasively after examining the item which had inclined him toward Grass Lake in the first place. "I suppose maybe it is."
"You suppose! You suppose! Getting a little more cautious now that we're getting down to something practical. Well, just look at that map there again and tell me what you see. Tell me if you don't see a road marked as leading south from Grass Lake."
"Yes," replied Clyde, a little sullenly and bitterly after a time, so flayed and bruised was he by this man who was so determined to harry him to his grave. He fingered the map and pretended to took as directed, but was seeing only all that he had seen long before there in Lycurgus, so shortly before he departed for Fonda to meet Roberta. And now here it was being used against him.
"And where does it run, please? Do you mind telling the jury where it runs—from where to where?"
And Clyde, nervous and fearful and physically very much reduced, now replied: "Well, it runs from Grass Lake to Three Mile Bay."
"And to what or near what other places in between?" continued Mason, looking over his shoulder.
"Gun Lodge. That's all."
"What about Big Bittern? Doesn't it run near that when it gets to the south of it?"
"Yes, sir, it does here."
"Ever notice or study that map before you went to Grass Lake from Utica?" persisted Mason, tensely and forcefully.
"No, sir—I did not."
"Never knew the road was on there?"
"Well, I may have seen it," replied Clyde, "but if so I didn't pay any attention to it."
"And, of course, by no possible chance could you have seen or studied this folder and that road before you left Utica?"
"No, sir. I never saw it before."
"I see. You're absolutely positive as to that?"
"Yes, sir. I am."
"Well then, explain to me, or to this jury, if you can, and under your solemn oath which you respect so much, how it comes that this particular folder chances to be marked, 'Compliments of the Lycurgus House, Lycurgus, N. Y.'" And here he folded the folder and presenting the back, showed Clyde the thin red stamp in between the other red lettering. And Clyde, noting it, gazed as one in a trance. His ultra-pale face now blanched gray again, his long thin fingers opened and shut, the red and swollen and weary lids of his eyes blinked and blinked to break the strain of the damning fact before him.
"I don't know," he said, a little weakly, after a time. "It must have been in the Renfrew House rack."
"Oh, must it? And if I bring two witnesses here to swear that on July third—three days before you left Lycurgus for Fonda—you were seen by them to enter the Lycurgus House and take four or five folders from the rack there, will you still say that it 'musta been in the rack at the Renfrew House' on July sixth?" As he said this, Mason paused and looked triumphantly about as much as to say: There, answer that if you can! and Clyde, shaken and stiff and breathless for the time being, was compelled to wait at least fifteen seconds before he was able sufficiently to control his nerves and voice in order to reply: "Well, it musta been. I didn't get it in Lycurgus."
"Very good. But in the meantime we'll just let these gentlemen here look at this," and he now turned the folder over to the foreman of the jury, who in turn passed it to the juryman next to him, and so on, the while a distinct whisper and buzz passed over the entire courtroom.
And when they had concluded—and much to the surprise of the audience, which was expecting more and more attacks and exposures almost without cessation—Mason turned and explained: "That's all." And at once many of the spectators in the room beginning to whisper: "Trapped! Trapped!" And Justice Oberwaltzer at once announcing that because of the lateness of the hour, and in the face of a number of additional witnesses for the defense, as well as a few in rebuttal for the prosecution, he would prefer it if the work for the day ended here. And both Belknap and Mason gladly agreeing. And Clyde—the doors of the courtroom being stoutly locked until he should be in his cell across the way—being descended upon by Kraut and Sissell and by them led through and down the very door and stairs which for days he had been looking at and pondering about. And once he was gone, Belknap and Jephson looking at each other but not saying anything until once more safely locked in their own office, when Belknap began with: "... not carried off with enough of an air. The best possible defense but not enough courage. It just isn't in him, that's all." And Jephson, flinging himself heavily into a chair, his overcoat and hat still on, and saying: "No, that's the real trouble, no doubt. It musta been that he really did kill her. But I suppose we can't give up the ship now. He did almost better than I expected, at that." And Belknap adding: "Well, I'll do my final best and damnedest in my summing up, and that's all I can do." And Jephson replying, a little wearily: "That's right, Alvin, it's mostly up to you now, I'm sorry. But in the meantime, I think I'll go around to the jail and try and hearten 'im up a bit. It won't do to let him look too winged or lame tomorrow. He has to sit up and make the jury feel that he, himself, feels that he isn't guilty whatever they think." And rising he shoved his hands in the side pockets of his long coat and proceeded through the winter's dark and cold of the dreary town to see Clyde.