Sampson watched the jury intently. As Diggers read out the numbers, he saw a certain hardness creep into the jurors’ eyes. Then their glances strayed from the witness to the defendant. He knew that symptom only too well. Let Mason go ahead and pull his bag of tricks. When jurors lean forward in their chairs to listen to damaging testimony, then, with hard faces, look with steely indifference at the defendant, the verdict is in the bag.
With the conclusion of Diggers’ direct examination, the court took its usual midday recess, and Sampson tried hard to keep from swaggering as he walked from the courtroom.
A nurse changed Mrs. Breel’s position in the wheel chair so that she would not become cramped. Mrs. Breel smiled at Mason and said, “Well, that wasn’t so bad.”
“It’s going to get worse,” Mason warned.
“Then what?” she asked.
“Well,” Mason said, “it’s always darkest just before dawn.”
Virginia Trent came forward, standing tall, thin and austere, her face with its look of grim tension in contrast with Mrs. Breel’s carefree smile. “It’s a crime,” she said, “for them to drag Aunt Sarah into court while she’s still suffering from that broken leg.”
Mason said, “The district attorney’s office wanted to rush her to trial while she was still suffering from a loss of memory.”
“Couldn’t you have presented a physician’s certificate and secured a continuance?” Virginia Trent asked accusingly.
“I could,” Mason admitted, “but I had a better idea.”