Native Son - Richard Wright [141]
“If you felt so dissatisfied, why did you leave the room without trying to awaken her?”
Mrs. Dalton paused before answering; her thin mouth was wide open and her face tilted far to one side.
“I smelt alcohol in the room,” she whispered.
“Yes?”
“I thought Mary was intoxicated.”
“Had you ever encountered your daughter intoxicated before?”
“Yes; and that was why I thought she was intoxicated then. It was the same odor.”
“Mrs. Dalton, if someone had possessed your daughter sexually while she lay on that bed, could you in any way have detected it?”
The room buzzed. The coroner rapped for order.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
“Just a few more questions, please, Mrs. Dalton. What aroused your suspicions that something had befallen your daughter?”
“When I went to her room the next morning I felt her bed and found that she had not slept in it. Next I felt in her clothes rack and found that she had not taken the new clothes she had bought.”
“Mrs. Dalton, you and your husband have given large sums of money to Negro educational institutions, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Could you tell us roughly how much?”
“Over five million dollars.”
“You bear no ill will toward the Negro people?”
“No; none whatever.”
“Mrs. Dalton, please, tell us what was the last thing you did when you stood above your daughter’s bed that Sunday morning?”
“I—I….” She paused, lowered her head and dabbed at her eyes. “I knelt at the bedside and prayed….” she said, her words coming in a sharp breath of despair.
“That is all. Thank you, Mrs. Dalton.”
The room heaved a sigh. Bigger saw the woman lead Mrs. Dalton back to her seat. Many eyes in the room were fastened upon Bigger now, cold grey and blue eyes, eyes whose tense hate was worse than a shout or a curse. To get rid of that concentrated gaze, he stopped looking, even though his eyes remained open.
The coroner turned to the men sitting in rows to his right and said,
“You gentlemen, the jurors, are any of you acquainted with the deceased or are any of you members of the family?”
One of the men rose and said,
“No, sir.”
“Would there be any reason why you could not render a fair and impartial verdict in this?”
“No, sir.”
“Is there any objection to these men serving as jurors in this case?” the coroner asked of the entire room.
There was no answer.
“In the name of the coroner, I will ask the jurors to rise, pass by this table, and view the remains of the deceased, one Mary Dalton.”
In silence the six men rose and filed past the table, each looking at the pile of white bones. When they were seated again, the coroner called,
“We will now hear Mr. Jan Erlone!”
Jan rose, came forward briskly, and was asked to swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help him God. Bigger wondered if Jan would turn on him now. He wondered if he could really trust any white man, even this white man who had come and offered him his friendship. He leaned forward to hear. Jan was asked several times if he was a foreigner and Jan said no. The coroner walked close to Jan’s chair and leaned the upper part of his body forward and asked in a loud voice,
“Do you believe in social equality for Negroes?”
The room stirred.
“I believe all races are equal….” Jan began.
“Answer yes or no, Mr. Erlone! You’re not on a soap box. Do you believe in social equality for Negroes?”
“Yes.”
“Are you a member of the Communist Party?”
“Yes.”
“In what condition was Miss Dalton when you left her last Sunday morning?”
“What do you mean?”
“Was she drunk?”
“I would not say she was drunk. She had had a few drinks.”
“What time did you leave her?”
“It was about one-thirty, I think.”
“Was she in the front seat of the car?”
“Yes; she was in the front seat.”
“Had she been in the front seat all along?”
“No.”
“Was she in the front seat when you left the café?”
“No.”
“Did you put her in the front seat when you left the car?”
“No; she said she wanted to sit up front.”
“You didn’t ask her to?”
“No.”
“When you left her, was she able to get out of the car alone?”
“I think so.