An American Tragedy - Theodore Dreiser [382]
“And how about the religious work of your parents?”
“Well, it was all right—only I never did like going out nights on the street corners.”
And so on, through five-and-ten cent store, soda and newspaper carrier jobs, until at last he was a bellhop at the Green-Davidson, the finest hotel in Kansas City, as he informed them.
“But now, Clyde,” proceeded Jephson who, fearful lest Mason on the cross-examination and in connection with Clyde’s credibility as a witness should delve into the matter of the wrecked car and the slain child in Kansas City and so mar the effect of the story he was now about to tell, was determined to be beforehand in this. Decidedly, by questioning him properly he could explain and soften all that, whereas if left to Mason it could be tortured into something exceedingly dark indeed. And so now he continued:
“And how long did you work there?”
“A little over a year.”
“And why did you leave?”
“Well, it was on account of an accident.”
“What kind of an accident?”
And here Clyde, previously prepared and drilled as to all this plunged into the details which led up to and included the death of the little girl and his flight—which Mason, true enough, had been intending to bring up. But, now, as he listened to all this, he merely shook his head and grunted ironically, “He’d better go into all that,” he commented. And Jephson, sensing the import of what he was doing—how most likely he was, as he would have phrased it, “spiking” one of Mr. Mason’s best guns, continued with:
“How old were you then, Clyde, did you say?”
“Between seventeen and eighteen.”
“And do you mean to tell me,” he continued, after he had finished with all of the questions he could think of in connection with all this, “that you didn’t know that you might have gone back there, since you were not the one who took the car, and after explaining it all, been paroled in the custody of your parents?”
“Object!” shouted Mason. “There’s no evidence here to show that he could have returned to Kansas City and been paroled in the custody of his parents.”
“Objection sustained!” boomed the judge from his high throne. “The defense will please confine itself a little more closely to the letter of the testimony.”
“Exception,” noted Belknap, from his seat.
“No, sir. I didn’t know that,” replied Clyde, just the same.
“Anyhow was that the reason after you got away that you changed your name to Tenet as you told me?” continued Jephson.
“Yes, sir.”
“By the way, just where did you get that name of Tenet, Clyde?”
“It was the name of a boy I used to play with in Quincy.”
“Was he a good boy?”
“Object!” called Mason, from his chair. “Incompetent, immaterial, irrelevant.”
“Oh, he might have associated with a good boy in spite of what you would like to have the jury believe, and in that sense it is very relevant,” sneered Jephson.
“Objection sustained!” boomed Justice Oberwaltzer.
“But didn’t it occur to you at the time that he might object or that you might be doing him an injustice in using his name to cover the identity of a fellow who was running away?”
“No, sir—I thought there were lots of Tenets.”
An indulgent smile might have been expected at this point, but so antagonistic and bitter was the general public toward Clyde that such levity was out of the question in this courtroom.
“Now listen, Clyde,” continued Jephson, having, as he had just seen, failed to soften the mood of the throng, “you cared for your mother, did you?—or didn’t you?”
Objection and argument finally ending in the question being allowed.
“Yes, sir, certainly I cared for her,” replied Clyde—but after a slight hesitancy which was noticeable—a tightening of the throat and a swelling and sinking of the chest as he exhaled and inhaled.
“Much?”
“Yes, sir—much.” He didn’t venture to look at any one now.
“Hadn’t she always done as much as she could for you, in her way?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, then, Clyde, how was it, after all that, and even though that dreadful accident had occurred, you could run away and stay away so long without so much as one word to tell her that you were by no means as guilty as you seemed and that she shouldn