Clane said dryly, “Isn’t it better to become fully familiar with the facts before mapping out a defence?”
“Not necessarily. One only needs to secure a verdict of acquittal. The means don’t matter so much. You’d be surprised, Mr. Clane, to find out how much higher value is placed by jurors upon the honor of young women with attractive legs, than on the honor of women who cannot cross their knees in a witness chair to advantage.”
The lawyer’s smile became a leer.
Terry said shortly, “Look here, that leg defence is used by every trollop who’s guilty of emotional murder. It wins her a verdict, but she’s for ever after covered with slime. Now you don’t need to do that with Cynthia. Cynthia didn’t kill him. Here’s something for you to investigate: a Dr. Sedler, William Shield, and a Fred Stevens were all working with Mandra in a blackmail racket. I heard Dr. Sedler make some very incriminating statements about where that sleeve gun came from. Malloy’s working on that angle of the case, but he isn’t following it up. He’s trying to pin the crime on Cynthia. Naturally, he isn’t going to start digging up facts which will prove her innocent. But you can do it. I’ll give you Sedler’s address, and tell you where Shield and Stevens can be found. They’re all guilty of criminal conspiracy in a blackmail racket, so it won’t be hard for you to get detectives who can make them...”
Howland interrupted, “Never mind that angle, Mr. Clane. It won’t be necessary.”
“Why won’t it be necessary?”
“Because the state can never convict Cynthia Renton.”
“To hell with that,” Terry said. “I want Cynthia to prove that she’s innocent, by proving just who did kill Mandra. Getting an acquittal won’t be enough.”
Howland slowly shook his head and said, “I never try to prove who did commit a murder. I content myself with showing the state has failed to prove my client did it. It’s much easier to punch holes in the Prosecution’s theory of the case than it is to work out another theory of the case the Prosecution can’t punch holes in. Always keep the defendant in the position of being the injured party, always keep yourself in the position of being the one who is shooting holes into the other man’s case. That keeps the jurors from weighing one theory against the other. A defendant should never advance a theory. And, when the defendant is a young and attractive woman she should always give the jurors a chance to sympathize with her desperate struggles.”
“What desperate struggles?” Clane asked ominously.
“Struggles to save herself from a fate worse than death,” the lawyer said smugly.
Terry’s voice was toneless. “I see. Would you mind telling me just what kind of a defence you are going to make?”
The lawyer raised his eyebrows, gestured with the palms of his hands. “I,” he said, “am not going to make any defence. I will act as Miss Renton’s attorney, and interrogate the witnesses. The witnesses will, of course, testify to the facts upon which the defence will be predicated.”
“Never mind beating about the bush,” Terry said. “I want to know...”
Howland checked him with a gesture.
“Permit me to complete my thought, Mr. Clane,” he said, in a voice which seemed to slide smoothly from an oiled tongue. “When the witnesses are assembled this afternoon I shall first tell them Miss Renton’s story of what actually happened. I think the witnesses are all very friendly to her. I think they want to see her acquitted. I think they will do everything in their power — remembering, of course, to tell the truth, and only the truth.
“I think you’ll agree with me that the original story Miss Renton told was most unfortunate. I am very much afraid a jury would be inclined to convict her, as the evidence now stands, if she told that story to them. But the real facts of the case are these: Miss Renton was painting Mandra’s portrait. He brought some very considerable pressure to bear upon her in order to get her to paint that portrait, blackmailed her, in fact. Miss Cynthia Renton is a very talented painter. But she did not have the technique of her sister, Alma, who is internationally known as an artist. So, Cynthia took her sketches to Alma, asked Alma to create another portrait of Mr. Mandra. When the two portraits were finished, she wanted to place them side by side so that Mr. Mandra could take his choice.
“After all, you know, Cynthia is something of a child, and she is inclined to discount her own very marked skill with the brush.
“On the night of the murder, her picture was completed. Alma had also completed her portrait. Cynthia took both pictures with her to Mr. Mandra’s apartment. She showed him both. He selected one — the one, as it happened, which Cynthia herself had painted. The other portrait was to go back to Alma.
“Mr. Mandra had some other appointments. He kept Cynthia waiting. He gave her a drugged drink. Think of it! This monster drugged her! She fell asleep, dozing in a big easy chair.
“Now, bear this in mind, as this is important. Jacob Mandra wanted to secure a sleeve gun, was, in fact, very anxious to get one. He had secured one. We don’t know where it came from. The Prosecution will perhaps claim that it was your sleeve gun. As to that, I understand you can make no definite identification. You can only say that the gun they will show you is a gun which is similar to yours, and that yours is missing. You do not know how long yours had been gone, nor by whom it had been taken. A sleeve gun, however, was lying upon Mr. Mandra’s desk. And, when Cynthia awoke, she saw Mandra toying with the gun. He had even inserted a dart in the weapon.
“Cynthia, wakening with a start, looked for the portrait Mandra had chosen. It was gone. She asked him what had become of it. Mandra told her he had given it to a certain woman. He had wanted the portrait as a gift for this woman.
“It was at this time Mandra became amorously insulting. He showed himself in his true character as a sinister blackmailer, a despoiler of virtue. It then became apparent that the pressure he had brought to bear upon Cynthia was not so much for the purpose of getting her to paint his portrait as to get her in his power. She was young, fresh, and virtuous, an unplucked fruit, a budding flower! And Mandra was a roué who had sipped honey from so many flowers that his taste had become cloyed. This fresh young thing aroused not the manhood in him, but the beast in him. So depraved had he become, that, in place of wanting to protect the virtue of this young woman, he wanted to strip her of that most priceless possession. And he knew that he could do it only by the use of drugs and of force. So he conspired to get her in his apartment, alone with him, at the unconventional hour of three o’clock in the morning.”
The lawyer was working himself up to an emotional climax. His voice rose in volume. The vibrant timbre of it filled the room.
“Miss Renton had taken the sleeve gun in her hand to examine it. In picking it up from the table, she had no idea that it was a weapon. Mandra’s emotions got the better of him. He suddenly disclosed himself in his true colors. He made his leering proposal. Cynthia drew back. Mandra reached for her and grabbed her. They struggled. Mandra ripped the dress from Cynthia’s shoulder. She screamed and tried to pull back. Mandra’s hands were wet with perspiration from his struggles and from those unclean thoughts which had possessed his mind. Those wet hands slipped down the smooth skin of Cynthia’s bare arms, caught her wrists, then her fingers, and gripped them with crushing force.
“She screamed because he was cutting the fingers of her right hand on the brass catch which protruded downward from the sleeve gun.