“Now,” Mason said, “you’re going to keep quiet all the way along the line. With the evidence the district attorney has against you, he’ll never release you. The only way you’ll ever get out of jail is by having a jury say ‘Not guilty,’ or having three juries in a row fail to agree on a verdict. Do you understand that?”
Again she nodded.
“All right,” Mason said. “Whenever anyone asks you to say anything, whether it’s district attorney or newspaper man, or some very sympathetic fellow-prisoner who just ‘happens’ to be put in the same cell with you, you’ll say that you want to talk; that I’ve ordered you not to talk; that as long as I’m your attorney, you’re going to obey orders; that you think it’s all foolishness; that you want to tell your story in a simple, straightforward manner, but that for some reason I’m ordering you to keep quiet. In other words, you pass the buck, and pass it big. Do you get that?”
“I get it,” she said.
“Do you have nerve enough to do it?”
“I think so.”
“It’s going to take a lot of will power.”
She said, “I know all about that, too. After all, Mr.Mason, I’m twenty-seven years old. A girl develops will power in twenty-seven years.”
“Bosh!” he told her. “You’ve been out with some young sprout who’s tried to do a little necking in an amateurish way and you think you’ve built up a mental discipline and an ability to take care of yourself. You’re going up against men now, men who have handled so many hundred similar cases that it’s a matter of routine with them. They know all the tricks that work, and those that don’t work. You’re a babe in the woods, going up against it for the first time. Keep your mouth shut, except for that one statement about wanting to talk but not being allowed to. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she said, her eyes indignant, “I understand. And don’t think young men are as amateurish as your little speech would imply.”