“Listen,” Mason said, “let me tell you something about the facts of life, Mrs. Gilman. You can get an attorney who can get Glamis Barlow released on bail without the slightest difficulty. You don’t even need to call it bail. You put up a bond for her appearance as a witness and the court lets her out.”
“Well, why don’t we do it?” Nancy asked. “Why haven’t you made arrangements to do it, Mr. Mason? Even if you couldn’t represent both Glamis and Carter you could at least have arranged for some other attorney.”
“Because,” Mason said, “the minute she puts up a bond and steps out of custody as a material witness she’ll be arrested as a codefendant. She’ll then be charged with being an accessory after the fact in the murder or she’ll be charged as a codefendant in the murder. Then Hamilton Burger will file a joint information against Glamis and your husband and try them both for the murder of Vera Martel.
“And once she’s arrested for murder she can’t get out on bail. Once she’s arrested for murder, Hamilton Burger simply has to go through with the case, to save his face if for no other reason. Once she’s arrested for murder she has no sympathy from either the court or the public. But so long as a good-looking girl like Glamis is being held as a material witness at the whim of the district attorney, she has the sympathy of both the court and the public.
“For your information, this way of handling the case is making the judge angry at the prosecutor. “Now then, does that answer your question?”
Nancy Gilman thought that over for a few moments, then when she spoke there was a decided change in her manner.
“I still think it’s the most absurd thing I ever heard of in my life,” Nancy said. “Carter wouldn’t hurt a fly and Glamis has no more idea of what happened than... well, she’s completely innocent.”
“What about those people who were going to testify that they saw her running out of the workshop?”
“Bosh and nonsense!”
“Do you know where Glamis was that morning?”
“I don’t know, no. I was asleep. But I know what Muriell told me, and Muriell said there was absolutely no possibility that Glamis could have got back in the house, got her clothes off and come out to stand in the hall by the time Muriell came down from the attic. It’s absurd!”
“The matter seems to hinge,” Mason said, “on whether you knew Vera Martel in her lifetime.”
“I never heard of the creature.”
“You wouldn’t have paid her any blackmail?”
“I wouldn’t have paid anyone any blackmail, Mr. Mason. If anybody tried to blackmail me I’d kick them down the front steps.
“Look at me, Mr. Mason. Believe me and believe my sincerity. I’ve lived my own life. I haven’t conformed to the conventions. I’ve had an illegitimate child. You know that. I could have married the father of Glamis Barlow in order to give the child a name. When he learned I was in trouble and started trying to save his own skin I lost all respect for him.
I made up my mind that I’d have my own child in my own way. I came out here and disappeared and defied all of his efforts to find me then or later.
“Anybody could dig into my past and find a lot of things that showed I’d been untrue to the conventions, but I defy anybody to show that I’ve ever been untrue to myself or to my own best convictions. And as long as I feel that way I’ll throw any blackmailer out of the house.”
Mason said, “If we could establish those facts it might help a lot.”
“What do you mean, if we could establish them?”
Mason said, “Mrs. Gilman, I want you to look me in the eyes. Are you lying?”
She looked him in the eyes and said, “No, I’m not lying. I don’t stoop to falsehoods. I can afford to be myself and I don’t like deceit, I don’t like falsehoods, I don’t like hypocrisy.”
“All right,” Mason said, “here’s my idea. I want you to take a lie-detector test today, right now. I am going to let the newspapers know about the results of that lie-detector test. I want to establish that you did not know Vera Martel and that she was not blackmailing you.”
For a moment Nancy Gilman’s eyes seemed to waver.
“If,” Mason said, “you are telling the truth, if you have a scorn of hypocrisy and of falsehood, you have absolutely nothing to fear. You can pass the lie-detector test with flying colors.”
“But,” she said, “suppose I’m nervous? Suppose the man who gives the lie-detector test doesn’t appreciate the difference between nervousness and the reaction of one who is telling an untruth?”
“The man I have in mind,” Mason said, “is thoroughly competent. He’s not going to be fooled by anything of that sort. He’ll talk with you until he gets your normal level, your normal reactions, and then he’ll ask you questions. If you’re lying, don’t take the test. Just leave the office quietly and I’ll try to do the best I can for your husband. And if you’re lying I’m afraid there’s not much I can do.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Then if you could prove that you’re not lying,” Mason said, “it might help your husband — and your daughter.”
“Where do I take this lie-detector test?” she asked.
Mason nodded to Della Street. “Take her down to Paul Drake’s office, Della. Cartman Jasper is there, Mrs. Gilman. You’ll take the lie-detector test in a room where you won’t be disturbed, where there are no distractions, where your reactions will be measured by a very delicate machine which registers your blood pressure, your respiration, your electrical skin-resistance.”
“What do all those things have to do with it?”
“If,” Mason said, “you’re a good reactor you can’t tell a falsehood without having a change in blood pressure, probably distinctive changes in the rate and type of respiration and changes in the electrical resistance of your skin. If, as you say, you have scorned falsehoods, if you have never had experience in lying, you’ll make a perfect subject and Jasper will be able to give you a clean bill of health.
“If I can tell the newspaper reporters that you took a lie-detector test, if they can interview Cartman Jasper and find that you never knew Vera Martel, had no reason to fear her and weren’t planning to pay her any blackmail, it will be a tremendous moral advantage. Of course, we can’t use the results of a lie-detector test in court, but the resulting public sentiment which naturally will come from such a test will greatly enhance the difficulties of a district attorney.”
Nancy Gilman turned to Della Street. Her manner was that of royalty. “Please take me to where I am to go, Miss Street,” she said. “I am ready.”
Della Street said, “This way, please,” and left the office.
Five minutes later Della Street was back.
“Everything all set?” Mason asked.
“Everything’s all set,” she said. “Paul Drake has her and Cartman Jasper in his interrogation room. There’s one of those trick mirrors and we can look through and see what’s going on without being seen. The room is bugged so we can hear what’s being said and there’s even a mirror in the ceiling so that you can watch the results of the needles on the polygraph machine as she answers questions.”
Mason grinned. “Let’s go.”
“Do you know just what you hope to accomplish?” Della Street asked.
Mason shook his head. “I’m fighting for time and I’m fighting a tough combination of seemingly insurmountable difficulties and overwhelming evidence. When a lawyer gets in that position the only thing for him to do is to take the initiative and keep moving. Let’s go.”