While the bailiff was summoning Evelyn Whiting, Judge Romley regarded Perry Mason in puzzled scrutiny.
“Do I understand, Mr. Mason,” he asked, “that it is your contention that the body which I understand was found yesterday, and which has been identified as Carl Moar is not really the body of Carl Moar?”
“No, your Honor,” Mason said. “I gave an interview to the press last night in which I asserted that the body could not be that of Carl Moar. I did this solely because I wanted to force the Prosecution to use every means possible to get Moar’s fingerprints.”
“Then, if that was Moar’s body, how do you account for the fact that Moar’s fingerprints also appear on the wheel chair in this flat — and, I take it, upon other objects in the flat?”
“Unless this witness can explain matters,” Mason said, “I think I will leave it to my learned friend, the deputy district attorney, to do the explaining. After all, it’s his case.”
Scudder said testily, “I think counsel understands that the district attorney’s office will welcome any information which will throw light upon this mysterious affair.”
Judge Romley was about to say something when the bailiff brought Evelyn Whiting into the courtroom. She was sworn by the clerk and took the witness stand, her face showing plainly that she was laboring under a nervous strain.
Mason glanced up at Judge Romley and said, “I think if Court and Counsel will bear with me in what may perhaps be a somewhat unusual form of examination, we can clear this matter up. Miss Whiting, you understand that you have taken an oath to tell the truth; that any failure to do so may subject you to a perjury prosecution?”
“Yes.”
Mason said, “You have been keeping company with a man whom you knew as Morgan Eves for some time?”