A chunky, balding man with a moon face and an irritated expression came
up to be sworn in. He was irritated with me for having subpoenaed him,
and he showed it. I hoped he wouldn't turn out to be hostile.
"You are Dr. Herbert Pettigrew?" I asked.
"That is correct."
"State your residence, please."
"3109 La Jolla Boulevard, Los Angeles, California."
"You are called 'Doctor' Pettigrew, I believe. Would you tell the Court
what right you have to that title?"
He looked a little miffed, but he said: "It is a scholarly title. A
Doctorate of Philosophy in physics from Massachusetts Institute of
Technology."
"I see. Would you mind telling the Court what other academic degrees you
have?"
He reeled off a list of them, all impressive.
"Thank you, doctor," I said. "Now, what is your present occupation?"
"I am a Professor of Physics, at the University of California in Los
Angeles."
I went on questioning him to establish his ability in his field, and by
the time I was finished, the jury was pretty well impressed with his
status in the scientific brotherhood. And not once did Thursby object.
Then I said, "Dr. Pettigrew, I believe you came to this city on a
professional matter?"
"Yes, I did." He didn't hesitate to answer, so I figured I hadn't got
his goat too much.
"And what was the nature of that matter?"
"I was asked to come here by Mr. Harold Thursby, the District Attorney,
to perform some scientific tests on the ... er ... device ... the device
known as People's Exhibit A."
"Did you perform these tests?"
"I did."
"At the request of District Attorney Thursby, is that right?"
"That is correct."
"May I ask why Mr. Thursby did not call you as a witness for the
prosecution?"
Thursby, as I had expected, was on his feet. "Objection! The question
calls for a conclusion of the witness!"
"Sustained," said Judge Lapworth.
"Dr. Pettigrew," I said, "what were your findings in reference to
Exhibit A?"
He shrugged. "The thing is a plastic box with a dial set in one side, a
plastic lens in one end, and a couple of strips of silver along two
other sides. Inside, there are a lot of markings in black ink on white
paint." He gestured toward the exhibit table. "Just what you've seen;
that's all there is to it."
"What sort of tests did you perform to determine this, Dr. Pettigrew?" I
asked.
He took a long time answering that one. He had X-rayed the thing
thoroughly, tested it with apparatus I'd never heard of, taken scrapings
from all over it for microchemical analysis, and even tried it himself
on a roulette wheel. He hadn't been able to make it work.
"And what is your conclusion from these findings?" I asked.
Again he shrugged. "The thing is just a box, that's all. It has no
special properties."
"Would you say that it could be responsible for the phenomena we have
just seen? By that, I mean the peculiar action of the roulette wheel,
demonstrated here by the prosecution."
"Definitely not," he stated flatly. "The box could not possibly have any
effect on either the wheel or the ball."
"I see. Thank you, doctor; that's all. Cross-examine."
Thursby walked over to the witness stand with a belligerent scowl on his
face. "Dr. Pettigrew, you say that the box couldn't possibly have had
any effect on the wheel. And yet, we have demonstrated that there _is_
an effect. Don't you believe the testimony of your own senses?"
"Certainly I do!" snapped Pettigrew.
"Then how do you account for the behavior of the roulette wheel as you
have just seen it demonstrated in this court?"
I suppressed a grin. Thursby was so mad that he was having trouble
expressing himself clearly.
"In several ways!" Pettigrew said sharply. "In the first place, that
wheel could be rigged."