Gertrude Lade said, “That’s him all right.”
The deputy district attorney jumped to his feet, spouting objections. Mason held up his hand, and said, “No, no, Miss Lade, not a word from you! Please! Your time will come later, you and the young woman who was with you. I just wanted to ask Mr. Serle to identify you, that’s all. Sit down please.”
Gertrude Lade sat down.
Serle’s face had turned a pasty green.
At that moment, the door of the courtroom opened, and two deputies escorted Emily Milicant into the room.
Mason met her eyes in a stony stare, whirled suddenly to face Serle once more. “You still insist that you ate dinner in the company of Bill Hogarty in his apartment and not at the Home Kitchen Café?” Mason asked.
Serle hesitated a moment, then blurted, “We ate two dinners. Once there and once in the apartment. He was still hungry.”
Mason smiled. “And were you so hungry,” he asked, “that you ate up everything off the plate?”
“Yes.”
“You want this court to understand that you ate the jackets from the baked potatoes?”