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"
Well
,
roughly
.
You
must
know
whether
it
was
coarse
or
fine
--
silky
or
coarse
.
You
know
that
,
do
n't
you
?
"
"
It
was
silky
,
yes
.
"
"
Well
,
here
's
a
lock
of
it
,
"
he
now
added
more
to
torture
Clyde
than
anything
else
--
to
wear
him
down
nervously
--
and
going
to
his
table
where
was
an
envelope
and
from
it
extracting
a
long
lock
of
light
brown
hair
.
"
Do
n't
that
look
like
her
hair
?
"
And
now
he
shoved
it
forward
at
Clyde
who
shocked
and
troubled
withdrew
from
it
as
from
some
unclean
or
dangerous
thing
--
yet
a
moment
after
sought
to
recover
himself
--
the
watchful
eyes
of
the
jury
having
noted
all
.
"
Oh
,
do
n't
be
afraid
,
"
persisted
Mason
,
sardonically
.
"
It
's
only
your
dead
love
's
hair
.
"
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And
shocked
by
the
comment
--
and
noting
the
curious
eyes
of
the
jury
,
Clyde
took
it
in
his
hand
.
"
That
looks
and
feels
like
her
hair
,
does
n't
it
?
"
went
on
Mason
.
"
Well
,
it
looks
like
it
anyhow
,
"
returned
Clyde
shakily
.
"
And
now
here
,
"
continued
Mason
,
stepping
quickly
to
the
table
and
returning
with
the
camera
in
which
between
the
lid
and
the
taking
mechanism
were
caught
the
two
threads
of
Roberta
's
hair
put
there
by
Burleigh
,
and
then
holding
it
out
to
him
.
"
Just
take
this
camera
.
It
's
yours
even
though
you
did
swear
that
it
was
n't
--
and
look
at
those
two
hairs
there
.
See
them
?
"
And
he
poked
the
camera
at
Clyde
as
though
he
might
strike
him
with
it
.
"
They
were
caught
in
there
--
presumably
--
at
the
time
you
struck
her
so
lightly
that
it
made
all
those
wounds
on
her
face
.
Ca
n't
you
tell
the
jury
whether
those
hairs
are
hers
or
not
?
"
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"
I
ca
n't
say
,
"
replied
Clyde
most
weakly
.
"
What
's
that
?
Speak
up
.
Do
n't
be
so
much
of
a
moral
and
mental
coward
.
Are
they
or
are
they
not
?
"
"
I
ca
n't
say
,
"
repeated
Clyde
--
but
not
even
looking
at
them
.