STEVENS: Was the plane . . . empty?
REGAN: No. I found the body of a man in it.
STEVENS: Could you identify him?
REGAN: No one could. It was nothing but a burned skeleton. But the height was the same. It was Faulkner . . . I examined the body -- or what was left of it. I found two bullet holes. One -- in a rib, over the heart. The other -- straight through the right hand. He didn't die without putting up a fight. He must have been disarmed first, shot through the hand; then, murdered, defenseless, straight through the heart.
STEVENS: [After a pause] That's all, Mr. Regan.
FLINT: Just what is your . . . business, Mr. Regan?
REGAN: You'd like me to answer, wouldn't you?
STEVENS: We object, your Honor. The witness has a right not to answer that question.
JUDGE HEATH: Sustained.
FLINT: Mr. Regan, what do you do when prospective clients refuse to pay you protection?
REGAN: I'm legally allowed not to understand what you're talking about.
FLINT: Very well. You don't have to understand. May I question you as to whether you read the newspapers?
REGAN: You may.
FLINT: Well?
REGAN: Question me.
FLINT: Will you kindly state whether you read newspapers?
REGAN: Occasionally.
FLINT: Then did you happen to read that when Mr. James Sutton Vance, Jr., refused to pay protection to . . . a certain gangster, his magnificent country house in Westchester was destroyed by an explosion, just after the guests left, barely missing a wholesale slaughter? What was that, Mr. Regan, a coincidence?
REGAN: A remarkable coincidence, Mr. Flint: just after the guests left.
FLINT: Did you read that when Mr. Van Dorn refused to --
STEVENS: We object, your Honor! Such questions are irrelevant!
JUDGE HEATH: Sustained.
FLINT: So you had no ill feeling toward Mr. Faulkner for the . . . failure of your business with him?
REGAN: No.
FLINT: Now, Mr. "Guts" -- I beg your pardon -- Mr. Lawrence Regan, what would you do if someone were to take this woman you love so much -- and rape her?
REGAN: I'd cut his throat with a dull saw.
FLINT: You would? And you expect us to believe that you, "Guts" Regan, gangster, outlaw, scum of the underworld, would step aside with a grand gesture and throw the woman you wanted into another man's arms?
STEVENS: Your Honor! We --
[STEVENS is near the witness stand. Calmly and forcefully REGAN pushes him aside. Then, turns to FLINT and says very calmly, very earnestly]
REGAN: I loved her.
FLINT: You did? Why did you allow Faulkner to visit her after his marriage?
REGAN: I had nothing to say about that.
FLINT: No? You two didn't hold a blackmail plot over his head?
REGAN: Got any proof of that?
FLINT: Her association with you is the best proof!
STEVENS: Objection!
JUDGE HEATH: Sustained.
FLINT: How did you kill Faulkner in the penthouse that night?
STEVENS: Objection!
JUDGE HEATH: Sustained.
FLINT: Where is your other accomplice, the man who played the drunk?
REGAN: I can give you his exact address: Evergreen Cemetery, Whitfield Family Memorial; which is the swankiest place poor Lefty's ever been.
FLINT: Now, let me get this clear: you claim that the man buried in Evergreen Cemetery is "Lefty" O'Toole, and the man you found in the burned plane is Bjorn Faulkner?
REGAN: Yes.
FLINT: And what is to prove that it isn't the other way around? Supposing you did steal O'Toole's body? What's to prove that you didn't stage that fantastic thing yourself? That you didn't plant the airplane and the body in New Jersey and then appear with that wild story, in a desperate attempt to save your mistress? You've heard her tell us that you'd do anything for her; that you'd lie for her.
STEVENS: We object, your Honor!
JUDGE HEATH: Objection sustained.
FLINT: Where's your real proof, Mr. Regan?
REGAN:[He looks straight at FLINT for a second. When he speaks, his manner is a startling contrast to his former arrogance and irony; it is simple, sincere; it is almost solemn in its earnestness] Mr. Flint, you're a district attorney and I . . . well, you know what I am. We both have a lot of dirty work to do. Such happens to be life -- or most of it. But do you think we're both so low that if something passes us to which one kneels, we no longer have eyes to see it? I loved her; she loved Faulkner. That's our only proof.
FLINT: That's all, Mr. Regan.
[REGAN returns to the defense table]
STEVENS: John Graham Whitfield!
[WHITFIELD walks to the stand hurriedly, resolutely]
Mr. Whitfield, where were you on the night of January sixteenth?
WHITFIELD: I believe I was in New York, on business, that night.
STEVENS: Do you have any witnesses who can prove it?
WHITFIELD: Mr. Stevens, you must realize that I am not in the habit of providing myself with alibis. I've never had reason to keep track of my activities and to secure any witnesses. I would not be able to find them now.
STEVENS: How many cars do you own, Mr. Whitfield?
WHITFIELD: Four.
STEVENS: What are they?
WHITFIELD: One of them is a black sedan, as you are evidently anxious to learn. I may remind you that it is not the only black sedan in New York City.
STEVENS: [Casually] You have just returned from California by plane?
WHITFIELD: Yes.
STEVENS: You flew it yourself?
WHITFIELD: Yes.
STEVENS: You're a licensed pilot, then?
WHITFIELD: I am.
STEVENS: Now, that story of Mr. Regan's is nothing but a lie in your opinion, isn't it?
WHITFIELD: It is.
STEVENS: [Changing his manner, fiercely] Then, who wrote that five thousand dollar check?
WHITFIELD: [Very calmly] I did.
STEVENS: Will you kindly explain it?
WHITFIELD: It is very simple. We all know Mr. Regan's profession. He had threatened to kidnap my daughter. I preferred to pay him off, rather than to take any chances on her life.
STEVENS: The check is dated January seventeenth. On that same day, you announced your offer of a reward for Regan's arrest, didn't you?
WHITFIELD: Yes. You realize that besides my civic duty, I also had my daughter's safety in mind and I wanted prompt action.
STEVENS: Mr. Whitfield, your daughter and your fortune are your most cherished possessions, aren't they?
WHITFIELD: They are.
STEVENS: Then what would you do to the man who took your money and deserted your daughter for another woman?
FLINT: We object, your Honor!
JUDGE HEATH: Objection sustained.
STEVENS: You hated Faulkner. You wanted to break him. You suspected his intention of staging suicide. The words Mr. Jungquist heard you say prove it. Didn't you?
WHITFIELD: I suspected nothing of the kind!
STEVENS: And on January sixteenth, didn't you spend the day watching Faulkner?
WHITFIELD: Certainly not!
STEVENS: Weren't you trailing Faulkner in your black sedan? Didn't you follow him as soon as he left his penthouse, that night?
WHITFIELD: Fantastic! How could I have recognized him -- supposing it were Faulkner leaving? Van Fleet, the detective, didn't.
STEVENS: Van Fleet wasn't watching for a trick. He had no suspicion of the plot. You had.
WHITFIELD: [With magnificent calm] My dear Mr. Stevens, how could I have known about the plot for that night?
STEVENS: Didn't you have any particular information about Faulkner's activities at the time?