“And was removed from an ambulance and taken up to the flat rented by Mr. Eves?”
“Yes.”
“That’s all,” Scudder said. “No questions,” Mason announced. “My next witness,” Scudder announced, “is Christopher G. Borge.”
Borge, looking decidedly bored, raised his huge frame from his chair, walked to the clerk, was sworn, eased himself into the witness chair, crossed his knees and looked at the deputy district attorney.
“Your name is Christopher Borge, and you are now, and for several years have been, a criminologist connected with the homicide detail of the police force in this city?”
“I am.”
“And what has been your training for your position?” the deputy district attorney inquired.
Mason raised his eyebrows in surprise, inquired, “May I ask if you’re endeavoring to qualify this man as an expert?”
“Yes!” snapped the deputy, without turning his head.
Borge paid no attention whatever to the comments of Counsel. He glanced indifferently down at the reporter’s desk, where the shorthand reporter was making his pen fly across the paper, and said, “I studied chemistry, fingerprinting, forensic medicine, and toxicology, ballistics, handwriting, photomicrography and several other allied subjects.”