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

“And now, Griffiths,” went on Mason, “just you show Mr. Newcomb here how Miss Alden arose and came toward you. Direct him.”

And then Clyde, feeling weak and false and hated, arising again and in a nervous and angular way⁠—the eerie strangeness of all this affecting him to the point of unbelievable awkwardness⁠—attempting to show Newcomb just how Roberta had gotten up and half walked and half crawled, then had stumbled and fallen. And after that, with the camera in his hand, attempting to show as nearly as he could recall, how unconsciously his arm had shot out and he had struck Roberta, he scarcely knowing where⁠—on the chin and cheek maybe, he was not sure, but not intentionally, of course, and not with sufficient force really to injure her, he thought at the time. But just here a long wrangle between Belknap and Mason as to the competency of such testimony since Clyde declared that he could not remember clearly⁠—but Oberwaltzer finally allowing the testimony on the ground that it would show, relatively, whether a light or heavy push or blow was required in order to upset anyone who might be “lightly” or “loosely” poised.

“But how in Heaven’s name are these antics as here demonstrated on a man of Mr. Newcomb’s build to show what would follow in the case of a girl of the size and weight of Miss Alden?” persisted Belknap.

“Well, then we’ll put a girl of the size and weight of Miss Alden in here.” And at once calling for Zillah Saunders and putting her in Newcomb’s place. But Belknap none-the-less proceeding with:

“And what of that? The conditions aren’t the same. This boat isn’t on the water. No two people are going to be alike in their resistance or their physical responses to accidental blows.”

“Then you refuse to allow this demonstration to be made?” (This was from Mason, turning and cynically inquiring.)

“Oh, make it if you choose. It doesn’t mean anything though, as anybody can see,” persisted Belknap, suggestively.

And so Clyde, under directions from Mason, now pushing at Zillah, “about as hard,” (he thought) as he had accidentally pushed at Roberta. And she falling back a little⁠—not much⁠—but in so doing being able to lay a hand on each side of the boat and so save herself. And the jury, in spite of Belknap’s thought that his contentions would have counteracted all this, gathering the impression that Clyde, on account of his guilt and fear of death, was probably attempting to conjure something that had been much more viciously executed, to be sure. For had not the doctors sworn to the probable force of this and another blow on the top of the head? And had not Burton Burleigh testified to having discovered a hair in the camera? And how about the cry that woman had heard? How about that?

But with that particular incident the court was adjourned for this day.

On the following morning at the sound of the gavel, there was Mason, as fresh and vigorous and vicious as ever. And Clyde, after a miserable night in his cell and much bolstering by Jephson and Belknap, determined to be as cool and insistent and innocent-appearing as he could be, but with no real heart for the job, so convinced was he that local sentiment in its entirety was against him⁠—that he was believed to be guilty. And with Mason beginning most savagely and bitterly:

“You still insist that you experienced a change of heart, do you, Griffiths?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“Ever hear of people being resuscitated after they have apparently drowned?”

“I don’t quite understand.”

“You know, of course, that people who are supposed to be drowned, who go down for the last time and don’t come up, are occasionally gotten out of the water and revived, brought back to life by first-aid methods⁠—working their arms and rolling them over a log or a barrel. You’ve heard of that, haven’t you?”

“Yes, sir, I think I have. I’ve heard of people being brought back to life after they’re supposed to be drowned, but I don’t think I ever heard just how.”

“You never did?”

“No, sir.”

“Or how long they could stay under water and still be revived?”

“No, sir. I never did.”

“Never heard, for instance, that a person who had been in the water as long as fifteen minutes might still be brought to?”

“No, sir.”

“So it never occurred to you after you swam to shore yourself that you might still call for aid and so save her life even then?”

“No, sir, it didn’t occur to me. I thought she was dead by then.”

“I see. But when she was still alive out there in the water⁠—how about that? You’re a pretty good swimmer, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir, I swim fairly well.”

“Well enough, for instance, to save yourself by swimming over five hundred feet with your shoes and clothes on. Isn’t that so?”

“Well, I did swim that distance then⁠—yes, sir.”

“Yes, you did indeed⁠—and pretty good for a fellow who couldn’t swim thirty-five feet to an overturned boat, I’ll say,” concluded Mason.

Here Jephson waved aside Belknap’s suggestion that he move to have this comment stricken out.

Clyde was now dragged over his various boating and swimming experiences and made to tell how many times he had gone out on lakes in craft as dangerous as canoes and had never had an accident.

“The first time you took Roberta out on Crum Lake was in a canoe, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But you had no accident then?”

“No, sir.”

“You cared for her then very much, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But the day she was drowned in Big Bittern, in this solid, round-bottomed rowboat, you didn’t care for her any more.”

“Well, I’ve said how I felt then.”

“And of course there couldn’t be any relation between the fact that on Crum Lake you cared for her but on Big Bittern⁠—”

“I said how I felt then.”

“But you wanted to get rid of her just the same, didn’t you? The moment she was dead to run away to that other girl. You don’t deny that, do you?”

“I’ve explained why I