evident: White, once possessor of a victim, wished to cling to that victim through the years. Unlike nearly all other men of similar stamp, he did not cast aside his playthings when wearied of them. Possibly he had been like other men in this regard—possibly he had turned from many another victim in the past. But the frail and pitiful little Evelyn seemed to have enthralled his fancies, conquered his vagrant passions. All his thoughts were for her, and for her his future dreams. He lavished his bounty on her, and he strove to keep her from all other men. The story of Evelyn's affair with Jack Barrymore was a page in real life that made the courtroom crowd strain its eager ears. Barrymore, young, handsome, and romantic, had appealed to the girlish mind and eye. The burly White, with his 50 years, found himself fading into the background. He seized an opportunity to pose as "the friend of the family" by discrediting Barrymore and sending the little girl to school. It was an index to White's soul—but it showed that White, at least, had no idea of parting from or wearying of his victim.
What had Delmas done?
He made the jurors regard Stanford White as a fiend whose slaying was a noble deed.
He made the jurors thrill with sympathy for the fragile, pale-faced little Evelyn.
He showed cause enough ten times over for the dethronement of reason in the brain of Harry Thaw.
What more could any lawyer do?
