Glacier County chief. [volume] (Browning, Mont.) 1931-1940, 1939-02-03
TRHE COURT ROOM DOOR
swung back slowly and Clo-

uo"H Inc dlSle, lOohlHS Ike d lHt-
dieval page, her head flung back,
her fair hair sweeping her Shout
ders in a Carlo bob, and her blue
eyes, pale as aquamarines, fast
ened on the judge. His glance
swooped in her direction, cold with
reproach for the interruption. En-
barrassed, she slid hastily into the
one vacant chair at the press table.
Only that morning he had warned the
reporters to curb their restless comings
and goings. This was murder trial,
not prize fight, but she had had to
make a telephone call to her office
Saint in stained glass, thought JUS
tice John Bryant. less annoyed when
he saw who 1t was. He had been vague
ly troubled for days by her family an
gelic demeanor in the murk of the case
he was hearing. But reporters were
like that-either saints or devils. They
seemed to him TO be mostly devils.
He knew them well. His county, rich
and dotted with big estates, had seen
more than its share of front page
murders, and he had listened to too
many women deny that they had killed
their husbands and lovers. BY degrees
New York papers. He liked some, toll
Grated others. and thought their trade
menace to jurisprudence.
The evidence in the case he was
hearing was airtight-so much so that
the prosecutor was getting casual. AL
ways a mistake. Four of the jurors
looked soft. He could read acquittal in
their faces. There was no doubt in his
mind that Lefty Stoneham had shot
her husband through window, as he
sat silhouetted against the shade, read
ing his evening paper.
Justice Bryant was San ascetic
Slightly miscast on the bench. His gray
eyes were level, cold and incredibly
bored as they watched the slow parade
Of witnesses going past. Obviously he
had never let his own passions fly. He
disliked disorder frenzy. deceit and
sentimentalism, but the pattern of his
working life was thick with all these
offshootS of frayed humanity.
At home things were different. There
the atmosphere was one of exquisite
order. reason and placid affection. He
had been married for 25 years to a
woman reserved and stable. His one
child, Joan, had started on the same
road-a bride last Easter. cool as the
sheaf Of lilies she held in her arms
pale, blonde and remote.
Clover Lane thought herself lucky
to have landed on a New York paper
at the age of 81 Her father, dead now,
had been a famous foreign correspond
ent
She had been at it for 10 months
now and was still trying to master the
technique of a profession that seemed
to her unbearably complicated. al
though her father had always said that
it was simple arithmetic if one could
read, write and disbelieve in ones
fellowmen. She lacked the lion heart,
or the common sense. or the brass, or
whatever it was that made the good
reporter.
You can write but you can't get
news" Charlie Levitt. her city editor.
had told her acidly week ago. you've
got to tougher up and get what you go
after I'm afraid you haven't got
the old mans knack" he added
brutally.
Clover lacked nothing, however, in
the eyes of Hank Martin, sitting be-
side her at the press table now. look
ing bored and inattentive. Hank was
star of the first water He worked
he was making her newspaper days
absorbing. with his gay good nature,
his adherence of bunk. his fine sense
of values where his work was con-
cerned He laughed a lot at Clover
sometimes so much that it hurt.
When it came to news he was ready
enough to ditch her, for he was full
of the fighting spirit and was both
keen and acid at his work.
Matty Lennon came numbering down
the aisle towards Glover, trying to make
his 200 pounds of Tapping flesh look
obscure in the courtroom. Matty was
her photographer and cameras were
forbidden when Justice Bryant sat on
the bench. An attendant watched him
suspiciously as he got close to Glover
and whispered in her ear.
Mr. Levitt wants you on the tele-
phone. Miss Lane. We've got to duck"
Clover elbowed her way through the
crowd waiting at the courtroom door
to get glimpse of the woman charged
with murder. She shut herself up in
telephone booth along the hall and
listened anxiously to Mr.. Levitt's voice
snarling at her: "Oh, hello. there you
are at last. thought the line had gone
dead. Is Justice Bryant still on the
bench?"
YES"
Good. We've just had a tip that
girls been bumped off-on his estate,
Oh all OFFICES. SldlludIO NEWS llSiSIl
got it yet. Hop out there quick. It's
% miles from where you are. I'll as
sign someone else to the Stoneham
case Now go to it, until get one of
the men out there"
Clover dived out of the booth and
OUTRAGED Matty to his car. He always
drove as if the devils were in pursuit,
and before long they flashed through
the high stone gates that enclosed
Justice Bryants 300-acre estate.
The house glimmered through the
trees-an English effect, long and low,
spacious and cool looking. In the dis
lance pond lay sapphire-blue in a
stretch of grass. and near it stood a
summer house, a rustic effect built of
logs and half smothered in hollyhocks.
Standing at the door of the Bryant
house, his brick-red face familiar by
now to Clover, was Inspector Henry
Gluck, who had put bracelets on the
Stoneham woman and many another