An American Tragedy - Theodore Dreiser [331]
“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 any one 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 up there again—he’s near the depot,” but at the same time looking down and away from Smillie.
And then Smillie, like Mason before him, proceeding to ask about the bag in the boat, and whether it had not been possible, if he could swim to shore with his shoes and suit on, for him to have swam to Roberta and assisted her to cling to the overturned boat. And Clyde explaining, as before, that he was afraid of being dragged down, but adding now, for the first time, that he had called to her to hang on to the boat, whereas previously he had said that the boat drifted away from them. And Smillie recalled that Mason had told him this. Also, in connection with Clyde’s story of the wind blowing his hat off, Mason had said he could prove by witnesses, as well as the U. S. Government reports, that there was not a breath of air stirring on that most halcyon day. And so, plainly, Clyde was lying. His story was too thin. Yet Smillie, not wishing to embarrass him, kept saying: “Oh, I see,” or, “To be sure,” or “That’s the way it was, was it?”
And then finally asking about the marks on Roberta’s face and head. For Mason had called his attention to them and insisted that no blow from a boat would make both abrasions. But Clyde sure that the boat had only struck her once and that all the bruises had come from that or else he could not guess from what they had come. But then beginning to see how hopeless was all this explanation. For it was so plain from his restless, troubled manner that Smillie did not believe him. Quite obviously he considered his not having aided Roberta as dastardly—a thin excuse for letting her die.
And so, too weary and disheartened to lie more, finally ceasing. And Smillie, too sorry and disturbed to wish to catechize or confuse him further, fidgeting and fumbling and finally declaring: “Well, I’m afraid I’ll have to be going now, Clyde. The roads are pretty bad between here and Sharon. But I’ve been mighty glad to hear your side of it. And I’ll present it to your uncle just as you have told it to me. But in the meantime, if I were you, I wouldn’t do any more talking than I could help—not until you hear further from me. I was instructed to find an attorney up here to handle this case for you, if I could, but since it’s late and Mr. Brookhart, our chief counsel, will be back tomorrow, I think I’ll just wait until I can talk to him. So if you’ll take my advice, you’ll just not say anything until you hear from him or me. Either he’ll come or he’ll send some one—he’ll bring a letter from me, whoever he is, and then he’ll advise you.”
And with this parting admonition, leaving Clyde to his thoughts and himself feeling no least doubt of his guilt and that nothing less than the Griffiths’ millions, if so they chose to spend them, could save him from a fate which was no doubt due him.
Chapter 13
And then on the following morning Samuel Griffiths, with his own son Gilbert standing by, in the large drawing room of their Wykeagy Avenue mansion, listening to Smillie’s report of his conference with Clyde and Mason. And Smillie reporting all he had heard and seen. And with Gilbert Griffiths, unbelievably shaken and infuriated by all this, exclaiming at one point:
“Why, the little devil! The little beast! But what did I tell you, Dad? Didn