An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser (i can read book club .TXT) 📕

to see him quite alone in his cell. Smillie having explained that it was not the intention of the Griffiths to try to set up any defense for Clyde, but rather to discover whether under the circumstances there was a possibility for a defense, Mason had urged upon him the wisdom of persuading Clyde to confess, since, as he insisted, there was not the slightest doubt as to his guilt, and a trial would but cost the county money without result to Clyde⁠—whereas if he chose to confess, there might be some undeveloped reasons for clemency⁠—at any rate, a great social scandal prevented from being aired in the papers.

And thereupon Smillie proceeding to Clyde in his cell where brooding most darkly and hopelessly he was wondering how to do. Yet at the mere mention of Smillie’s name shrinking as though struck. The Griffiths⁠—Samuel Griffiths and Gilbert! Their personal representative. And now what would he say? For no doubt, as he now argued with himself, Smillie, having talked with Mason, would think him guilty. And what was he to say now? What sort of a story tell⁠—the truth or what? But without much time to think, for even while he was trying to do so Smillie had been ushered into his presence. And then moistening his dry lips with his tongue, he could only achieve, “Why, how do you do, Mr. Smillie?” to which the latter replied, with a mock geniality, “Why, hello, Clyde, certainly sorry to see you tied up in a place like this.” And then continuing: “The papers and the district attorney over here are full of a lot of stuff about some trouble you’re in, but I suppose there can’t be much to it⁠—there must be some mistake, of course. And that’s what I’m up here to find out. Your uncle telephoned me this morning that I was to come up and see you to find out how they come to be holding you. Of course, you can understand how they feel down there. So they wanted me to come up and get the straight of it so as to get the charge dismissed, if possible⁠—so now if you’ll just let me know the ins and outs of this⁠—you know⁠—that is⁠—”

He paused there, confident because of what the district attorney had just told him, as well as Clyde’s peculiarly nervous and recessive manner, that he would not have very much that was exculpatory to reveal.

And Clyde, after moistening his lips once more, beginning with: “I suppose things do look pretty bad for me, Mr. Smillie. I didn’t think at the time that I met Miss Alden that I would ever get into such a scrape as this. But I didn’t kill her, and that’s the God’s truth. I never even wanted to kill her or take her up to that lake in the first place. And that’s the truth, and that’s what I told the district attorney. I know he has some letters from her to me, but they only show that she wanted me to go away with her⁠—not that I wanted to go with her at all⁠—”

He paused, hoping that Smillie would stamp this with his approval of faith. And Smillie, noting the agreement between his and Mason’s assertions, yet anxious to placate him, returned: “Yes, I know. He was just showing them to me.”

“I knew he would,” continued Clyde, weakly. “But you know how it is sometimes, Mr. Smillie,” his voice, because of his fears that the sheriff or Kraut were listening, pitched very low. “A man can get in a jam with a girl when he never even intended to at first. You know that yourself. I did like Roberta at first, and that’s the truth, and I did get in with her just as those letters show. But you know that rule they have down there, that no one in charge of a department can have anything to do with any of the women under him. Well, that’s what started all the trouble for me, I guess. I was afraid to let anyone know about it in the first place, you see.”

“Oh, I see.”

And so by degrees, and growing less and less tense as he proceeded, since Smillie appeared to be listening with sympathy, he now outlined most of the steps of his early intimacy with Roberta, together with his present defense. But with no word as to the camera, or the two hats or the lost suit, which things were constantly and enormously troubling him. How could he ever explain these, really? And with Smillie at the conclusion of this and because of what Mason had told him, asking: “But what about those two hats, Clyde? This man over here was telling me that you admit to having two straw hats⁠—the one found on the lake and the one you wore away from there.”

And Clyde, forced to say something, yet not knowing what, replying: “But they’re wrong as to my wearing a straw hat away from there, Mr. Smillie, it was a cap.”

“I see. But still you did have a straw hat up at Bear Lake, he tells me.”

“Yes, I had one there, but as I told him, that was the one I had with me when I went up to the Cranstons’ the first time. I told him that. I forgot it and left it there.”

“Oh, I see. But now there was something about a suit⁠—a gray one, I believe⁠—that he says you were seen wearing up there but that he can’t find now? Were you wearing one?”

“No. I was wearing the blue suit I had on when I came down here. They’ve taken that away now and given me this one.”

“But he says that you say you had it dry-cleaned at Sharon but that he can’t find anyone there who knows anything about it. How about that? Did you have it dry-cleaned there?”

“Yes, sir.”

“By whom?”

“Well, I can’t just remember now. But I think I can find the man if I were to go