More crushing than all the ordeals hitherto experienced, Evelyn Thaw was next compelled to admit the shameful fact that after her ruin she lived on the bounty of her betrayer. Documentary evidence was introduced to strengthen the hands of the merciless Jerome. A dozen times she took refuge in the answer, “I don’t remember.”

It was a bad day for the defense. The most sensational feature of the session was the introduction of her diary which pictured her a whimsical, strange little philosopher, even as a school girl.

Jerome sprang his coup with startling suddenness. He handed Mrs. Thaw a bundle of receipts representing money paid to her and her mother by Stanford White, and demanded that the fair witness identify her own signature on them.

There were fourteen receipts in all. They were for various amounts received from the Mercantile Trust company, where White had deposited a sum of money for Evelyn and her mother. The amounts varied from $65 to $110. The receipts were signed “Evelyn Florence Nesbit,” the mother and daughter having the same name.

A letter and envelope addressed to White’s private secretary by the architect were next offered in evidence. The letter said:

“Dear Hartnett: Please telephone Mrs. Nesbit to let you know whenever Miss Evelyn decides to go on her vacation. Then send this note to the Mercantile Trust company: ‘Please notify Miss Nesbit that on receiving word she is about to start on her vacation you will send her the weekly checks for $25 and an additional check for $200.’ Yours truly,

“Stanford White.”

Evelyn was then compelled to admit that for several months in 1902 she lived at the exclusive Audubon apartments and that White paid the rent. Then she told of her meeting with Thaw and of her trip to Europe with him and of her recital to him of the story of her ruin, which, it was contended, wrecked his mind.

“When Harry learned I had a letter of credit from Stanford White, he grew very much excited,” declared Mrs. Thaw. “He said the money was filthy and poisonous and that I must never touch it again. He said he would take it so I could not use it. He said that he would give me anything I wanted, and that if mamma wanted anything she would only have to ask for it.

“When Mr. White gave me the letter of credit it was sealed up. I did not know what it was, and he told me I must not open the letter until we were well at sea. Whatever was used of the money was for my mother. Mr. Thaw gave it to her after I had given it to him.”

Thaw gave her $1,000 while she was in Paris.

Jerome had in some mysterious and unexplained way secured possession of a diary kept by Evelyn while she was at school at Pompton, N. J., in 1902. Rumor had it, that a handsome sum of money found its way to a member of her family for filching the booklet. Extracts from the diary were read to the fair witness, who admitted their authorship.

Some of the remarkable excerpts were:

“Mrs. De Mille (the head of the school) said to come right in and I jumped with the agility of a soubrette and began to get shy.

“I met Mrs. De Mille’s son, and I must admit that he was a pie-faced mutt.

“My room here is neither large nor small. There is a white, virtuous bed. I took a nap, and the last thing I remember was, I wondered how far I am from Rector’s. Rector’s is really not a proper place for an innocent young person, but I always had a weakness for it.”

“When one comes to think it over it is good to have lived. A girl who has always been good and never had any scandal about her is fortunate in more ways than one. On the other hand, not one of them will ever be anything. By anything I mean just that. They will, perhaps, be good wives and mothers, but whether it is ambition or foolish, I mean to be a good actress first.

“Of course, I can’t live here all the time. And I can’t forget all the old people. They do not know what they are doing here, but give them a chance to get away and see what they would do. If I stay here long I’ll get just like the rest. I am very susceptible and I’ll soon be a — —”

“From the time you first became intimate with Thaw in 1903 until the shooting of White, June 25, 1906, did you ever see anything in Thaw’s condition that was irrational?” asked Mr. Jerome.

“Yes.”

Mrs. Thaw then detailed several instances. She said that one night while on Broadway in a cab, she and Thaw saw White. Thaw became much excited.

“I don’t know what you would call it,” she said, “but I would call it a fit. He cried and sobbed, and bit his nails and talked rapidly.”

“Did you ever see a man in an epileptic fit?” asked Mr. Jerome.

“I’ve seen cats.”

There was considerable laughter.

Mrs. Thaw said her husband told her that White was circulating scandalous stories about him and was plotting to have him killed.

Abe Hummel, a once brilliant and respected lawyer in New York with a large practice among theatrical people, was brought on the stand by the prosecution prepared to swear that Mrs. Thaw had made an affidavit in his presence that Harry had beat her in Paris.

The evidence was not admitted. Jerome tried, however, to prove that she had made the affidavit. Evelyn, who had left the courtroom, was recalled. She came drying her eyes and showing signs of bitter disappointment because she was not allowed to remain at her husband’s side.

“You’ve a brother, Howard Nesbit?” began Jerome.

“Yes, sir.”

“On your return from Europe in 1903, did you tell your brother Howard, in substance, that while you were abroad you had been brutally abused by Thaw to induce you to tell lies against Stanford White, and that these lies were that he had drugged and mistreated you, which story you told Howard Nesbit was false?”

“I did not.”

“Didn’t you tell your brother you were compelled at the point of a revolver to make some such statement?”

“I did not.”

“Didn’t you tell Howard these facts in substance at some time?”

“I—did—not!”

Each time this answer was repeated with greater emphasis and a longer pause between the three words.

Evelyn was excused again. Jerome had been trying to prove her a perjurer, but had failed.

This ended Evelyn’s greatest ordeal on the witness stand. The slender girl was free to rest after a strain that had taxed her vitality to the utmost. Although she had suffered much in personal reputation, her original story was unshaken.

Dr. Evans, the alienist, was recalled for cross examination and remained on the stand two days. He was given a terrific cross fire of questions. Summed up Dr. Evans stated that he believed Thaw to have been suffering from adolescent insanity in 1903 and at the time of his marriage, again on April 4, 1905, and that when he killed Stanford White, June 25, 1906, he was the victim of an acute and recurrent attack of the same mental malady.

Important as was his testimony, it was quite lost sight of by the public in the keen interest surrounding Evelyn Thaw, and the spirit of anticipation with which the appearance of Harry Thaw’s mother was awaited.

CHAPTER XIV.

Thaw’s Mother on the Stand.

Bent with grief and shaken with sobs, the haughty widow of the millionaire steel king appeared clothed from head to foot in black. For the moment, pride of family and of wealth disappeared before the misery of the ordeal she had to undergo. Momentarily, she would show a flash of spirit, but it disappeared almost as quickly. Even the stern prosecutor softened

in manner before the sorrow of the aged woman. To attack her with the same ferocity as the wife of the accused would have spelled ruin for him. He read the handwriting on the wall and desisted.

Altogether Mrs. Thaw did not make as good a witness as did Evelyn with her wonderful composure and ready wit; but she impressed the jury and all hearers forcibly nevertheless. She herself seemed disappointed when her examination came to an end. Her disappointment centered about refusal of counsel to permit her to deny that her son Harry suffered a taint of insanity by heredity. She was placed on the stand immediately after Dr. Charles D. Wagner, an alienist, had testified Harry Thaw was incapable of viewing his action as wrong when he shot White.

Mr. Delmas conducted the direct examination of Mrs. Thaw, which follows:

“In what time of the fall of 1903 did your son, Harry K. Thaw, come to your home in Pittsburg?”

“In October. He came two days after my other son was married.”

“During the time that Harry K. Thaw was at your home did you notice anything peculiar in his conduct denoting a change?”

“When he first entered the house his manner was such that it struck me at the time.”

“Will you describe his appearance?”

“He seemed absent-minded and had a despairing look.”

“Did this continue?”

“Yes.”

“What followed?”

“This sort of thing happened several times at night. His room was next to mine and he sobbed violently during the night.”

It was at this point that the grief-stricken mother first gave way to her overpowering emotion. Her face, which had been as gray as her hair when she entered the courtroom, flushed red and tears stole down her cheeks.

She wiped away the tears with a black-bordered handkerchief and continued her story in a hesitating manner. Her tones were so low that several of the jurors could not hear her.

“Had you proceeded to state that you had found your son as late as 3 or 4 in the morning awake and undressed?”

“No; I said he was dressed.”

“And you had proceeded to state what he said?”

“He said that a man—probably the worst man in New York—had ruined his life.”

“Had you made any inquiry of your son as to what that man had done?”

“He said the man had wrecked the life of a young girl.”

“Did you learn more about that statement?”

“Yes. I could not learn who the girl was who was associated with this wicked man in New York.”

“Did you learn her name from your son?”

“Yes.”

“Will you tell us just what he said?”

“I learned more about it afterward.”

“Was that all you learned up to Thanksgiving day?”

Mrs. Thaw began crying again and restrained herself only after a great effort.

Some of the jurors complained that they had not been able to hear the testimony. By direction of the court, the stenographer read aloud the testimony of Mrs. Thaw. Her testimony was as follows, eliminating questions:

“In November, 1903, a few days before my second son was married, Harry came there. It was the 18th of November. I noticed a change in his conduct when he first entered the house. I had the habit of going to the door, and when I saw him it struck me that he looked absent-minded, as if he had lost interest in everything. The impression grew on me.

“He appeared to be laboring with a problem. He went to the drawing room and I heard the piano playing violently at first and then the tone grew softer and softer. This happened after he would come back, and after a while he would go to the drawing room and resume playing in the same way, first wildly and then softer and softer.

“But the most marked feature was his wakefulness at night. His room was next to mine and I would hear him sobbing. I would see a light under the door at three or four in the morning. I would go into his room and find him sitting up crying.

“I am not of a prying disposition, and I did not inquire into his trouble at once. He finally told me one night what the trouble was. He did not tell me definitely at first. He first said that it was something a wicked man in New York had done that had ruined his life. That was as much as I could get from him at first. He said the man was probably the worst in New York.

“On Thanksgiving I learned more. I did not ask the girl’s name. I learned from him one night what the wicked man had done to the young girl. I did not want to inquire any further.

“I told him that sort of thing happened in New York constantly and I asked, Why should that ruin your life? But he insisted it had.

“I tried to influence him the other way, to show him that it was not his place to look after the young girls.

“He said the girl had the most beautiful mind of any woman he had ever met and that if she had been under the influence of a good mother she would have been the best woman that ever lived. I cannot recall the entire conversation, but that is the substance of it.

“I only know that on Thanksgiving Day that incident occurred. It was the first Thanksgiving Day in our new church, and as it was very crowded. Harry and I had to stand under the gallery. I was glad afterward that we had to, as we heard the beautiful music.

“I heard a sob and when we drove home I asked Harry, ‘Why did you forget yourself in church?’ and he said it suddenly came over him—this dreadful thing. ‘If that dreadful thing had not happened,’ he said, ‘she could have been here with us.’”

The reading ceased and Mrs. Thaw was questioned further by Mr. Delmas.

“Did you have further conversations with him?”

“I think that was the substance of what he said and what I noticed.”

“After this conversation on Thanksgiving day, did you notice anything about his wakefulness and disturbed condition?”

“Nearly every morning I saw him up early. The same condition prevailed.”

“Do you know whether Dr. Bingaman was in attendance a few afternoons later?”

“Yes; I remember it was a gloomy afternoon. It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving, I believe. He did so so frequently that I do not recall any single occasion.”

“While he (Dr. Bingaman) was in your home did his reference to this young girl become more frequent or less frequent?”

“I am not sure. If anything it was more frequent.”

“When did you learn who this young girl was?”

“I cannot recall that. I have tried to. During the Spring of 1904, before he went abroad, I am inclined to think I learned that.”

“At that time can you recall what your son said about the young girl?”

“I can not recall it.”

District Attorney Jerome here appealed to the court to instruct the witness to answer yes or no to this question.

“You have stated that you think you learned who this young girl was before your son went to Europe in 1904. Now, my question is, what did he say?”

Mrs. Thaw’s examination was interrupted at this time by a clash of counsel over the purpose of the questions, District Attorney Jerome insinuating that if it was to show Thaw mentally unbalanced he would ask for a lunacy commission. The clash did much to disconcert the witness. Finally her examination continued.

“What did your son say to you?”

“It was some time between Thanksgiving and when he went back to Europe that he told me who the young girl was. I cannot recall the conversation we had, but I think it was in March that he told me.”

“What did your son tell you?”

“He said she had gone with her mother to New York and she had met the wicked man who had ruined her. I cannot recall all the conversation, but know I learned her name.

“Have you now stated all the conversation you had with your son between the time he got home and the time he left for Europe?”

“Yes: I have told all.”

“Your son then reappeared in your home in the Fall of 1904?”

“Yes.”

“Did he speak to you then about his contemplated marriage to this young girl?”

“I remember expressing my disapproval about his coming over from the other side with her, but he said there was nothing wrong: that she had been the victim of circumstances.”

“Will you state when he first manifested the intention of marrying that young girl?”

“In November, 1903, he told me he desired to marry her, but that he had been frustrated at every move he made.”

“You went South in 1904?”

“In February. It may have been in 1905. I cannot remember dates.”

“When you returned from the South you say your son was still intent on marrying this girl?”

“Yes; and I therefore came here to New York and saw her. This was about a month before the wedding.”

“You came to see her? And did you talk with your son about the wedding?”

“Yes.”

“Did you finally give your approval? Kindly state what conversation you had with your son on the subject after your return to the hotel?”

“He asked me whether I would be willing he should marry her and I said he could marry her at my home. I said he could take her home—that I liked the girl. I told Harry I had no one at home now and would take this girl to my home and her past would be closed. I told him I would never ask her about it nor permit it to be mentioned in my presence. I did, however, make one condition. I told him I would not have her mother in my house. So he made the arrangements and on April 2 came home to be married.”

“Now, after you had given your approval, they were married at your home in Pittsburg?”

“Yes.”

“How soon did the marriage take place?”

“Two days later.”

“What seemed to be his condition just prior to the marriage?”

“He seemed to be in a better condition, but somewhat depressed. He seemed to fear that the mother of the girl would withhold her consent to the marriage. He said he feared that at the very last her mother would refuse her consent.”

“What was the cause of this agitation on his wedding day?”

“He felt that her mother would still try to interfere. He was busy writing nearly all day.”

“Did you know that a will and codicil was being executed that day?”

“Yes.”

“At what time of the day?”

“At the early dinner.”

“You say they left for the West that night?”

“Yes.”

“How did he appear when he came back?”

“Their life was clear and placid. They were with me until October. I had an opportunity and carefully watched them.”

Mr. Jerome then took the witness in hand for cross examination.

“Did your son learn to play the piano?”

“Yes.”

“At some time subsequent to the death of your husband—or, rather ... I’ll put it this way—were you the executrix or trustee of your husband’s estate?”

Delmas objected.

“I am trying to show that at a certain date the executors of the late Mr. Thaw’s will increased the amount set aside for the defendant under the will,” said Jerome.

The question was changed as follows:

“Did such an event take place?”

“Yes.”

“At what date?”

“I cannot remember exactly.”

“How did it come about?”

Delmas objected.

“I want to instruct the witness that the District Attorney can ask any question he wants,” he said, “and that I can object to it if I want to, and I ask you, Mrs. Thaw, not to answer until I have had a chance to object.”

“There was a time when your son, under his father’s will, was to receive a certain amount of money unless the executors saw fit to increase it and there was a subsequent time when the amount was increased by the executors, when was that?”

“If you will state it was after June, 1903, I will not object,” said Delmas.

“I will not allow the question unless you set the date subsequent to June, 1903,” said Judge Fitzgerald.

Jerome again put the question and was again overruled.

“After the death of the defendant’s father was he in receipt of a certain income from the estate of his father?”

Delmas objected and was again sustained.

“After June, 1903, what was the income of the defendant?”

“It was from his own estate.”

“What income did he receive before that?”

Delmas objected and was sustained; Jerome was beaten at every point.

“When you spoke to him of his proposal of marriage, did he say he wanted to shield the young girl from a wrong?”

“Yes.”

“Did he relate to you the occurrences in Europe? Did he tell you of his desire to make Evelyn Nesbit his wife?”

“He did.”

“Did he express fear that he might not be married at that time?”

“He said she had told him that it would make an unsuitable match and that while he was very anxious to make the girl his wife she was not so anxious because of this wrong.”

“When they arrived from Europe did he come to your home in Pittsburg?”

“Not directly, but during that month.”

“So that up to the time of the marriage you had received no information of his former relations with Evelyn Nesbit?”

“No.”

“I am through,” said Jerome.

After the aged woman’s testimony had been concluded, Attorney Delmas suddenly threw a bomb into the ranks of the prosecution by announcing in a low voice the three words:

“The defense rests!”

CHAPTER XV.

Scathing Denunciation By Jerome.

Longfellow was an unwilling witness and every answer had to be dragged from him, Delmas interposing objections to the procedure throughout the examination.

“Did you represent this prisoner in the suit of Ethel Thomas against Harry K. Thaw?” demanded Jerome.

“My firm did,” Longfellow was allowed to answer.

“It has been said that alleged acts of perversion by White added to the fury of Thaw’s mental unbalance,” Jerome stated. “I want to show that he knew all about such things—that they were set forth in the complaint in this suit by Ethel Thomas, the papers of which were served on him.

“I am not trying to show that Ethel’s statements were true. Anyway, this poor girl now is dead—”

A hot fight came here, and Jerome was forced to withdraw the words “poor girl,” while the jury was cautioned to ignore what Jerome had said.

“Mrs. Thaw herself,” Jerome fairly shouted, “says she was told the story of Ethel Thomas!”

Longfellow was not allowed to testify to anything about the charges contained in the Thomas girl’s suit against Thaw.

Jerome was burning with wrath. His expected victory had been turned to bitter defeat.

The next witness was Policeman Dennis Wright, who was called to testify as to conversations he had with Thaw the night of Thaw’s arrest. The witness said:

“When I was in Madison avenue I saw Thaw. I asked him what the trouble was. He said he wanted me to take him away from the crowd, to take him to the station-house.”

“Was there any more?”

“Yes. When we were in Fifth avenue some person unknown asked me if I knew the prisoner or what he had done. I said I did not. I asked the defendant if he knew what he had done and he said ‘Yes.’ I asked him if he knew who it was he had killed. He said he would say nothing until he reached the station-house. He asked me for a light, offered me a cigar, and then wanted to take a cab to the station, but I would not agree.”

“Were his actions rational or irrational?”

“Rational.”

Four other policemen testified Thaw appeared rational after the murder.

Jerome here made an attempt to prove Evelyn Thaw a liar. He was defeated, however, for his star witness, Rudolph Eckmyer, a photographer, was not allowed to tell the date he made the famous Madison Square Garden photographs of Evelyn.

“If you will let me fix the date of these pictures,” he said heatedly, “I will show that on the night following the day they were taken, when Mrs. Thaw’s experience at White’s studio took place, Stanford White was not in the Twenty-fourth street house at all.”

Jerome fairly shouted the last words and pounded the table before him. Mr. Delmas said he must stand upon his objection, and it was sustained.

“I now offer,” repeated Jerome, “to prove by this witness the exact date on which these pictures were taken, which was, Mrs. Thaw testified, the day before she was drugged by Stanford White. And I further offer to prove that on that occasion Stanford White was not where she said he was.”

James Clinch Smith, Stanford White’s brother-in-law, who was in Europe when the trial began, was allowed to testify for the defense. Smith’s story threw much new light on the tragedy. It showed that Thaw several times passed through the aisles on the Madison Square Roof-garden, apparently seeking some one, and always his eyes were turned on the spot where Stanford White sat.

He sat down and talked to Smith on a variety of subjects—Wall street speculation, the play, a trip to Europe, common acquaintances, and many other topics.

This story, Jerome sought to show, proved that Thaw was sane the night of the murder, and that he repeatedly sought for his victim on the roof-garden, instead of killing him because of a sudden impulse.

“Thaw sat down beside me,” said the relative of White, “and offered me a cigar. I said, ‘No, thank you.’ He said, ‘How’s that, don’t you smoke at all?’ I said I occasionally smoked cigarets. He then took out his cigaret case, offered me one, and I took it and thanked him. He struck a match and lit my cigaret, and his cigar. He asked me how I liked the play, and I said I did not care for it much. I thought it slow and not the sort of play for a roof-garden.

“He said, ‘It is different from those you usually see on the roof-garden. It is a relief to see it, and I think it will be a success.’ I said I doubted it.

“A few moments later he said, ‘What are you doing in Wall street now—any speculating?’ I answered that I did not speculate in Wall street. He said he thought there was a great chance in copper; he mentioned Amalgamated and one other.

“And he also said Steel was good; he could not see why steel stocks were kept down; the company was doing a bigger business than ever. He said if he had any money he would put it in steel and copper, particularly copper.”

“Then suddenly he said: ‘Where are you going this summer?’ I told him that I was going to Europe on Thursday. He wanted to know what ship I was going on, and when I told him he said he did not like the ship.

“He said he was going on the Amerika because he could get on that ship a large suite of rooms, where he could have his meals served in his apartments.

“Then he said: ‘Are you alone over here?’ I told him that I had left my wife in Paris.

“When Thaw left me he walked around several times, looking over the audience, toward the place where he subsequently shot White. Finally his friends arrived, and then I heard three pistol shots and saw a cloud of black smoke. I saw Thaw after the shooting, aiming his pistol toward the floor.

“I went to the entrance, keeping my eyes on Thaw all the while. Then I saw a man lying face downward on the floor. The man’s face was so blackened with powder I did not recognize my brother-in-law and left the place without knowing who the man was.”

Smith on cross-examination asserted Thaw was not intoxicated on the night of the murder.

Jerome next asked Abe Hummel this question:

“Did you on October 27, 1903, see Evelyn Nesbit Thaw in your office?”

“I did,” replied the lawyer.

“At that conversation did Mrs. Thaw inform you that Thaw wanted to injure White and put him in the penitentiary and that Thaw had compelled her time and time again to sign statements about White and that those documents charged White with having drugged Evelyn Nesbit when she was about fifteen years old and that she, Evelyn Nesbit, had told you that Thaw had beaten her for not signing the papers?”

Hummel was not allowed to answer then, on objections by Delmas, but the witness said he was acting for Stanford White at the time of the conference.

The district attorney made an impassioned argument to secure the admission of Hummel’s testimony. He said:

“Your Honor has ruled and rules, as I believe, with entire correctness, that as to the truth or falsity as to whether Stanford White did do these acts, we on this trial have nothing to do, the issue being, did the defendant’s mind become unhinged by these and other things that have been proven in evidence? Was an insanity induced by this revelation and the others that appear in evidence which so swept reason from its moorings that when he killed Stanford White that night he did not know the nature and the quality of the act and that it was wrong?

“Your Honor’s rulings have reduced the case to that, and have properly reduced it, in my estimation, to that point.

“Now on that question of whether or not his mind was unhinged by these revelations, whether or no these revelations ever were made to him is surely most important. It is not collateral. It goes to the very root of the case.

“They claim that as Thaw sat in the hotel in Paris that night and asked her to marry him and she said she would not because of White, and she then cryingly told how this man had drugged her when but a girl of fifteen—they contend that this picture unhinged his mind. Your Honor has ruled we have nothing to do with the truth or falsity of her story. We have nothing to do with whether Stanford White did or did not do these things. The issue here is did or did not this defendant’s mind become unhinged when he heard Evelyn Nesbit’s story.

“If this jury believes that she told this awful story would it not be a fact that they would carry it in their minds and would it not weigh heavily?

“If on the other hand I can show that Mrs. Thaw did not tell Thaw in Paris that White drugged her it will be a matter for the jury to consider seriously in determining whether or not Thaw was insane when he killed Stanford White.

“If I can show that Evelyn Nesbit Thaw under the solemnity of an oath swore that White had never wronged her; if I can show that she repelled the advances of the man and that Thaw whipped and beat her because she would not affix her signature to an affidavit charging White wronged her; if I can show that she said to Hummel: ‘He beat me when we were in Paris; he lashed me with a whip because I would not sign papers;’ if I can show she swore ‘Stanford White never touched me’; if I can show that Thaw wanted her to sign papers in order to put White in the penitentiary—I can then show that the evidence in question is of vital importance.

“If I can show that she has made contradictory statements, the testimony of Doctors Evans and Wagner, which was based on her statement contained in the hypothetical question, can be stricken from the records.

“There is the crux of the case as it appears in the evidence, and the question becomes one of what the law says on this subject of introducing contrary statements of a witness.

“I was sincere when I said that I knew nothing in history or literature could compare with the heroic sacrifice made by Evelyn Nesbit when she refused to accept the proffered hand of Thaw in Paris—if the story told by Evelyn is true!”

The court made no decision on the question at issue, and examination of Hummel was resumed.

“At the interview in your office,” asked Mr. Jerome, “did Evelyn Nesbit, prior to your dictating anything, tell you that she had told Thaw that it was not true that Stanford White had drugged her?”

Mr. Delmas was on his feet to object, but before he could do so and immediately after the district attorney had ceased to speak, Hummel said, in a loud voice: “She certainly did.”

Mr. Delmas looked at the witness, and, with scorn in his voice, said: “And you call yourself a lawyer!” Then, after a bitter clash with the district attorney, in which temper was shown on both sides, Jerome being denounced, Delmas said, “Let the answer stand, I waive my right.”

Jerome turned to Hummel again and asked:

“Did Evelyn Nesbit, as she was then known, say to you that Thaw had prepared documents charging Stanford White with having drugged her when she was 15, and insisted upon her signing them, but that she told Thaw she would not, because the statement was not true?”

The court ruled this question could not be answered until Evelyn Nesbit Thaw had been recalled and testified as to whether or not Hummel was acting as her attorney or as White’s.

The next testimony was by Dr. Austin Flint, famous alienist for the prosecution. In response to a question which required an hour and a quarter to read, Dr. Flint said Thaw was sane when he killed White. The question was practically a review of the tragedy and trial.

The other $250-a-day alienists for the state—Drs. William B. Pritchard of the New York Polyclinic Institute, Albert Warren Ferris of the College of Physicians and Surgeons, A. R. Diefendorf of the State Hospital of Middletown, Conn., and a professor of mental diseases at Yale University, Dr. William E. Mabon, superintendent of the New York state hospital for the insane on Wards Island, and Dr. William Hirsch of the Cornell Medical College made the same reply to the same question. All swore Thaw was perfectly rational and knew what he was doing when he shot White.

Jerome had hurled his strongest attack against the defense in this desperate effort to prove Thaw sane at the time of the killing. While he was smiling in triumph Delmas said:

“Call Evelyn Nesbit Thaw.”

Pale and apparently almost a nervous wreck the beautiful child wife took the stand.

“Did you,” asked Delmas, “when you visited Abe Hummel in his office call upon him then and there, in a professional capacity with a view to having his legal advice as a counsellor-at-law?”

“I did,” was the answer.

Mrs. Thaw then left the stand.

Justice Fitzgerald then ruled that the defense could not now plead the professional privilege in bar of Hummel’s testimony for the privilege was involuntarily waived when young Mrs. Thaw herself took the stand and told of the occurrences in Hummel’s office.

This was a hard blow to the defense and the Napoleanic Delmas was enshrouded in temporary defeat.

CHAPTER XVI.

Shocking Disclosures in Famous Affidavit.