“We’ll let Judge Treadwell do a little blasting,” Mason said.
“Jason’s just as bad,” she said, “only he’s more clever. He’s a mealy-mouthed hypocrite who always tried to make Uncle Alden feel he loved him — taking him for auto rides and all that... There’s Harold Leeds, Freeman’s boy — the one walking on tiptoe. He does everything that way around home. When he can break away, he’d like to be a real sport; but he doesn’t stand much chance. Freeman keeps him under his thumb, won’t let him have a car, doesn’t approve of...”
She broke off as the bailiff suddenly pounded the courtroom to its feet. The door from chambers opened, and Judge Treadwell, walking with slow dignity, marched up the three carpeted stairs to the platform at the end of the courtroom and took his seat behind the mahogany “bench.” The bailiff mechanically intoned the formula which announced that court was in session, and, a moment later, Judge Treadwell looked down at Perry Mason, and said, “I’d like to ask a few questions of the applicant.”
Mason, on his feet, nodded toward Phyllis Leeds.
“Stand up and be sworn, Miss Leeds,” he said. “... walk right up to that desk. Did Your Honor wish to have counsel examine the witness?”
“No,” Judge Treadwell said. “The court will ask the questions. How old are you, Miss Leeds?”
“Twenty-three,” she answered in a voice high-pitched from nervousness.
“And your uncle is living with you?”
“Yes — that is, he was. I keep house for him, and keep his books.”
“Now, I’d like to know something about the family,” Judge Treadwell said in a conversational voice. “Your uncle, I take it, is not married.”