And then five entire days consumed by Mason and Belknap in selecting
a jury. But at last the twelve men who were to try Clyde, sworn and
seated. And such men--odd and grizzled, or tanned and wrinkled, farmers
and country storekeepers, with here and there a Ford agent, a keeper of
an inn at Tom Dixon's Lake, a salesman in Hamburger's dry goods store
at Bridgeburg, and a peripatetic insurance agent residing in Purday
just north of Grass Lake. And with but one exception, all married. And
with but one exception, all religious, if not moral, and all convinced
of Clyde's guilt before ever they sat down, but still because of their
almost unanimous conception of themselves as fair and open-minded men,
and because they were so interested to sit as jurors in this exciting
case, convinced that they could pass fairly and impartially on the
facts presented to them.
And so, all rising and being sworn in.
And at once Mason rising and beginning: "Gentlemen of the jury."
And Clyde, as well as Belknap and Jephson, now gazing at them and
wondering what the impression of Mason's opening charge was likely to
be. For a more dynamic and electric prosecutor under these particular
circumstances was not to be found. This was his opportunity. Were not
the eyes of all the citizens of the United States upon him? He believed
so. It was as if some one had suddenly exclaimed: "Lights! Camera!"
"No doubt many of you have been wearied, as well as puzzled, at times
during the past week," he began, "by the exceeding care with which the
lawyers in this case have passed upon the panels from which you twelve
men have been chosen. It has been no light matter to find twelve men
to whom all the marshaled facts in this astonishing cause could be
submitted and by them weighed with all the fairness and understanding
which the law commands. For my part, the care which I have exercised,
gentlemen, has been directed by but one motive--that the state shall
have justice done. No malice, no pre-conceived notions of any kind. So
late as July 9th last I personally was not even aware of the existence
of this defendant, nor of his victim, nor of the crime with which he
is now charged. But, gentlemen, as shocked and unbelieving as I was
at first upon hearing that a man of the age, training and connections
of the defendant here could have placed himself in a position to be
accused of such an offense, step by step I was compelled to alter and
then dismiss forever from my mind my original doubts and to conclude
from the mass of evidence that was literally thrust upon me, that it
was my duty to prosecute this action in behalf of the people.
"But, however that may be, let us proceed to the facts. There are
two women in this action. One is dead. The other" (and he now turned
toward where Clyde sat, and here he pointed a finger in the direction
of Belknap and Jephson), "by agreement between the prosecution and the
defense is to be nameless here, since no good can come from inflicting
unnecessary injury. In fact, the sole purpose which I now announce to
you to be behind every word and every fact as it will be presented
by the prosecution is that exact justice, according to the laws of
this state and the crime with which this defendant is charged, shall
be done. _Exact justice_, gentlemen, exact and fair. But if you do
not act honestly and render a true verdict according to the evidence,
the people of the state of New York and the people of the county of
Cataraqui will have a grievance and a serious one. For it is they who
are looking to you for a true accounting for your reasoning and your
final decision in this case."
And here Mason paused, and then turning dramatically toward Clyde, and
with his right index finger pointing toward him at times, continued:
"The people of the State of New York _charge_," (and he hung upon this
one word as though he desired to give it the value of rolling thunder),
"that the crime of murder in the first degree 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 bellboy 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 this defendant in die 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
fêtes, 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 drooped 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?"