"I can’t express it any better than that”
“As much as an horn?”
“I would say almost immediately, Mr. Mason. I can’t time it in a question of minutes.”
“No,” Mason said, “you would prefer to leave it in terms of generality, wouldn’t you, Sheriff?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You don’t dare to tie it down to any particular period of time.”
The sheriff flushed and said, That’s not the case, Mr. Mason. I had a great many things on my mind that night, and all I can say is that it was done almost immediately after the purse was recovered. I wasn’t wearing a stop watch.”
Gloster permitted himself an audible chuckle and glanced at the jury to see if they approved. An answering smile or two convinced him he had done right, and had the approval of the jury.
Mason said, “I notice some of these signatures are in pencil and some of them are in ink, Sheriff.”
“That’s right. Mine is in ink. Some of them are in pencil”
“All made at the same time?”
“All made at the same time.”
“Almost immediately after the purse was recovered?”
“Almost immediately after the purse was recovered.”
“Now, then,” Mason said, “can you tell me how these signatures were made?”
“How does anyone make his signature? He writes his name,” the sheriff said irritably.
“Oh, Your Honor,” Gloster said, “this examination is going far afield. Counsel is evidently sparring for time.”
Judge Garey said, “It would seem to me, Mr. Mason, that you have already explored the possibilities of the situation.”
“If Your Honor will bear with me,” Mason said, “I am about to make a point which I think will be of great importance.”
“Very well, go ahead.”
Mason took the envelope, placed the purse in the envelope, then held a sheet of paper over the envelope. “Now, go ahead and sign your name,” he said to the sheriff.
“What’s the idea?”
“I simply want to compare your signatures.”
The sheriff took a fountain pen from his pocket, balanced the envelope on his knee, and started to write his name on the piece of paper, then frowned, pushed the envelope to one side and placed the paper on the judge’s desk.
“No, no,” Mason said. “Hold the paper right over the purse.”
The sheriff wrote his name.
Mason took the paper, said, “Thank you, Sheriff,” produced another sheet of paper which he placed on the judge’s desk, and said, “Now please sign your name once more on this sheet of paper.”
“I don’t see why,” the sheriff growled.
“Simply to compare the signatures,” Mason said.
The sheriff, with poor grace, signed his name and resumed his position on the witness stand.
“Exactly as I thought,” Mason said.
“What is?” the sheriff demanded irritably.
“You can see,” Mason said, “by comparing the signatures, that this signature which you made when the purse was in the envelope is certainly not the same as the signature which is on the envelope.”
“Well, that purse got in the way. You can’t write your name over an object that bulges all over the place.”
“Exactly,” Mason said. “It’s a physical impossibility to sign your name under such circumstances so that the signature compares with a signature such as is on this piece of paper which you made on the judge’s desk.”
“Well, then, why did you have me do it?” the sheriff asked.
“Because,” Mason said triumphantly, pointing to the sheriffs signature on the envelope, “you can see that your signature on the envelope, and the signatures of all these other gentlemen on the envelope are perfect signatures. They couldn’t have been made while the purse was in the envelope. Moreover, Sheriff, IH call your attention to the fact that when the purse was taken out of the water it must have been soaking wet. It couldn’t have been put in this envelope in that condition without soaking the paper in the envelope so that any ink would have run all over the envelope when a fountain pen was placed on it. Now, then, can you explain these perfect signatures to the Coin! and the jury?”
“Well, sure,” the sheriff said. “We couldn’t sign our names with the purse in the envelope. We simply all signed our names on the envelope before we put the purse in. That’s the only way our signatures would have meant anything.”
“Oh, then,” Mason said, “you, and the gentlemen with you, signed an empty envelope. Is that it?”
“I didn’t say that. I said we signed the envelope before the purse was put in it.”
“How long before?”
“Immediately before.”
“What do you mean by immediately? A matter of seconds, a matter of hours, or a matter of days?”
“I told you I didn’t carry a stop watch with me.”
“But the fact remains,” Mason said, “that you did sign an empty envelope.”
The sheriff, half raising himself from the chair, shouted, “I told you we signed it just before the purse was put in it”
“All right,” Mason said. “Much as you dislike to admit it, you all signed an empty envelope. Now, then, how does it happen that when that purse was put in it, if it was dripping wet, the watef didn’t blur the fresh ink on the signatures, and didn’t soak the paper of this envelope so that even after drying the marks of moisture would still remain on the envelope?”
“I… well, as to that…” the sheriff said.
He glanced uncomfortably at Gloster, crossed his legs, uncrossed them, shifted his position, and stroked the angle of his jaw.
“I’m waiting for an answer,” Mason said.
“Well, of course,” the sheriff said, “you couldn’t put a soaking wet purse into a paper envelope. That’s absurd.”
“Well, what did you do?”
“Well, I put the purse in the envelope and sealed it”
“When?”
“Well, within a reasonable time after it had been recovered.”
“Oh,” Mason said, “now it’s a reasonable time. Before it was immediately after. A matter of seconds, I believe you said.”
“Well, I didn’t carry a stop watch.”
“You keep saying that, Sheriff, but the physical appearance of the envelope would indicate that the purse was entirely dry before it was placed in the envelope. Now, suppose you tell us exactly what happened.”
“Well,” the sheriff blurted, “when I recovered the purse I told the fellows that were with me that we’d have to identify it some way, and I told them we could all sign an envelope and I’d seal it. I had these envelopes with me and we signed them, but—well, naturally, I couldn’t put the wet purse in there. I waited until the purse dried.”
“How long?”
“Well, I don’t know. “I don’t know how to answer that question. I was given the responsibility of seeing that purse was put in that signed envelope. I put it there personally. These gentlemen left it to me to do that, and I did it. I accepted that responsibility.”
“After waiting for how long, Sheriff?”
“I simply waited for the purse to dry.”
“So all that the signatures on this envelope mean is that the men who were with you, at your suggestion, signed an empty envelope on the theory that they could in that way identify the purse when it was introduced in evidence, and left it to you to put the purse in the envelope, at a later date.”
“Not at a later date, at a later time.”
“You don’t remember when it was?” Mason asked.
“Not the exact hour, no.”
“Do you remember the exact day?”
The sheriff again shifted his position, said, “I’ve already answered that.”
“And we’ll now consider the envelope containing the contents of the purse,” Mason said. “Apparently there are keys, cards, a compact, a cigarette lighter—and yet the signatures on the envelope are perfect signatures. I presume the same holds true as to the signatures on this envelope.”