An American Tragedy - Theodore Dreiser [322]
And Sondra returning to consciousness after a time tearfully announcing that she must get out of here at once, that she couldn’t “endure this place,” and begging Bertine and all the others to stay close to her and say nothing about her having fainted and cried, since it would only create talk. And thinking all the time of how, if this were all true, she could secure those letters she had written him! Oh, heavens! For supposing now at this time they should fall into the hands of the police or the newspapers, and be published? And yet moved by her love for him and for the first time in her young life shaken to the point where the grim and stern realities of life were thrust upon her gay and vain notice.
And so it was immediately arranged that she leave with Stuart, Bertine and Grant for the Metissic Inn at the eastern end of the Lake, since from there, at dawn, according to Baggott, they might leave for Albany—and so, in a roundabout way for Sharon.
In the meantime, Mason, after obtaining possession of all Clyde’s belongings here, quickly making his way west to Little Fish Inlet and Three Mile Bay, stopping only for the first night at a farmhouse and arriving at Three Mile Bay late on Tuesday night. Yet not without, en route, catechizing Clyde as he had planned, the more particularly since in going through his effects in the tent at the camp he had not found the gray suit said to have been worn by Clyde at Big Bittern.
And Clyde, troubled by this new development, denying that he had worn a gray suit and insisting that the suit he had on was the one he had worn.
“But wasn’t it thoroughly soaked?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then, where was it cleaned and pressed afterward?”
“In Sharon.”
“In Sharon?”
“Yes, sir.”
“By a tailor there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What tailor?”
Alas, Clyde could not remember.
“Then you wore it crumpled and wet, did you, from Big Bittern to Sharon?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And no one noticed it, of course.”
“Not that I remember—no.”
“Not that you remember, eh? Well, we’ll see about that later,” and deciding that unquestionably Clyde was a plotter and a murderer. Also that eventually he could make Clyde show where he had hidden the suit or had had it cleaned.
Next there was the straw hat found on the lake. What about that? By admitting that the wind had blown his hat off, Clyde had intimated that he had worn a hat on the lake, but not necessarily the straw hat found on the water. But now Mason was intent on establishing within hearing of these witnesses, the ownership of the hat found on the water as well as the existence of a second hat worn later.
“That straw hat of yours that you say the wind blew in the water? You didn’t try to get that either at the time, did you?”
“No, sir.”
“Didn’t think of it, I suppose, in the excitement?”
“No, sir.”
“But just the same, you had another straw hat when you went down through the woods there. Where did you get that one?”
And Clyde, trapped and puzzled by this pausing for the fraction of a second, frightened and wondering whether or not it could be proved that this second straw hat he was wearing was the one he had worn through the woods. Also whether the one on the water had been purchased in Utica, as it had. And then deciding to lie. “But I didn’t have another straw hat.” Without paying any attention to that, Mason reached over and took the straw hat on Clyde’s head and proceeded to examine the lining with its imprint—Stark & Company, Lycurgus.
“This one has a lining, I see. Bought this in Lycurgus, eh?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When?”
“Oh, back in June.”
“But still you’re sure now it’s not the one you wore down through the woods that night?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, where was it then?”
And Clyde once more pausing like one in a trap and thinking: My God! How am I to explain this now? Why did I admit that the one on the lake was mine? Yet, as instantly recalling that whether he had denied it or not, there were those at Grass Lake and Big Bittern who would remember that he had worn a straw hat on the lake, of course.
“Where was it then?” insisted Mason.
And Clyde at last saying: “