An American Tragedy - Theodore Dreiser (librera reader txt) 📗

“Explained! Explained! And you expect any fair-minded, decent, intelligent person to believe that explanation, do you?” Mason was fairly beside himself with rage and Clyde did not venture to comment as to that. The judge anticipated Jephson’s objection to this and bellowed, “Objection sustained.” But Mason went right on. “You couldn’t have been just a little careless, could you, Griffiths, in the handling of the boat and upset it yourself, say?” He drew near and leered.

“No, sir, I wasn’t careless. It was an accident that I couldn’t avoid.” Clyde was quite cool, though pale and tired.

“An accident. Like that other accident out there in Kansas City, for instance. You’re rather familiar with accidents of that kind, aren’t you, Griffiths?” queried Mason sneeringly and slowly.

“I’ve explained how that happened,” replied Clyde nervously.

“You’re rather familiar with accidents that result in death to girls, aren’t you? Do you always run away when one of them dies?”

“Object,” yelled Belknap, leaping to his feet.

“Objection sustained,” called Oberwaltzer sharply. “There is nothing before this court concerning any other accident. The prosecution will confine itself more closely to the case in hand.”

“Griffiths,” went on Mason, pleased with the way he had made a return to Jephson for his apology for the Kansas City accident, “when that boat upset after that accidental blow of yours and you and Miss Alden fell into the water⁠—how far apart were you?”

“Well, I didn’t notice just then.”

“Pretty close, weren’t you? Not much more than a foot or two, surely⁠—the way you stood there in the boat?”

“Well, I didn’t notice. Maybe that, yes, sir.”

“Close enough to have grabbed her and hung on to her if you had wanted to, weren’t you? That’s what you jumped up for, wasn’t it, when she started to fall out?”

“Yes, that’s what I jumped up for,” replied Clyde heavily, “but I wasn’t close enough to grab her. I know I went right under, and when I came up she was some little distance away.”

“Well, how far exactly? As far as from here to this end of the jury box or that end, or half way, or what?”

“Well, I say I didn’t notice, quite. About as far from here to that end, I guess,” he lied, stretching the distance by at least eight feet.

“Not really!” exclaimed Mason, pretending to evince astonishment. “This boat here turns over, you both fall in the water close together, and when you come up you and she are nearly twenty feet apart. Don’t you think your memory is getting a little the best of you there?”

“Well, that’s the way it looked to me when I came up.”

“Well, now, after that boat turned over and you both came up, where were you in relation to it? Here is the boat now and where were you out there in the audience, as to distance, I mean?”

“Well, as I say, I didn’t exactly notice when I first came up,” returned Clyde, looking nervously and dubiously at the space before him. Most certainly a trap was being prepared for him. “About as far as from here to that railing beyond your table, I guess.”

“About thirty to thirty-five feet then,” suggested Mason, slyly and hopefully.

“Yes, sir. About that maybe. I couldn’t be quite sure.”

“And now with you over there and the boat here, where was Miss Alden at that time?”

And Clyde now sensed that Mason must have some geometric or mathematic scheme in mind whereby he proposed to establish his guilt. And at once he was on his guard, and looking in the direction of Jephson. At the same time he could not see how he was to put Roberta too far away either. He had said she couldn’t swim. Wouldn’t she be nearer the boat than he was? Most certainly. He leaped foolishly⁠—wildly⁠—at the thought that it might be best to say that she was about half that distance⁠—not more, very likely. And said so. And at once Mason proceeded with:

“Well, then she was not more than fifteen feet or so from you or the boat.”

“No, sir, maybe not. I guess not.”

“Well then, do you mean to say that you couldn’t have swum that little distance and buoyed her up until you could reach the boat just fifteen feet beyond her?”

“Well, as I say, I was a little dazed when I came up and she was striking about and screaming so.”

“But there was that boat⁠—not more than thirty-five feet away, according to your own story⁠—and a mighty long way for a boat to move in that time, I’ll say. And do you mean to say that when you could swim five hundred feet to shore afterwards that you couldn’t have swum to that boat and pushed it to her in time for her to save herself? She was struggling to keep herself up, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, sir. But I was rattled at first,” pleaded Clyde, gloomily, conscious of the eyes of all the jurors and all the spectators fixed upon his face, “and⁠ ⁠… and⁠ ⁠…” (because of the general strain of the suspicion and incredulity now focused as a great force upon him, his nerve was all but failing him, and he was hesitating and stumbling)⁠ ⁠… “I didn’t think quite quick enough I guess, what to do. Besides I was afraid if I went near her⁠ ⁠…”

“I know. A mental and moral coward,” sneered Mason. “Besides very slow to think when it’s to your advantage to be slow and swift when it’s to your advantage to be swift. Is that it?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, then, if it isn’t, just tell me this, Griffiths, why was it, after you got out of the water a few moments later you had sufficient presence of mind to stop and bury that tripod before starting through the woods, whereas, when it came to rescuing her you got rattled and couldn’t do a thing? How was it that you could get so calm and calculating the moment you set your foot on land? What can you say to that?”

“Well⁠ ⁠… a⁠ ⁠… I told you that afterwards