“Here,” replied the defendant, puzzled to understand the bearing of the question.
“Are you quite sure, Peck?” said the questioner, solemnly.
“Yes, sir.”
Sam stepped forward and opened his lips, “Mr. Alsop—”
He was interrupted by an uplifted hand. “I am questioning Peck, if you please.” Sam retired, abashed.
“Were you not in Boston Saturday evening, Peck?”
“In Boston!” Into this three-syllabled explosion Duncan compressed a heavy charge of wonder and relief.
“Yes, in Boston!” returned Mr. Alsop, with sharp emphasis. “You are doubtless an excellent actor, Peck, but please do not answer my questions with exclamations. Were you in Boston Saturday night or not?”
“Not!” replied Duncan, his eyes twinkling, and the corners of his mouth twitching in an incipient smile. He had recovered his self-possession completely.
“This is not a fit subject for jest, Peck.” Duncan’s face sobered immediately. “It is a very serious matter. I repeat my question once more and demand a frank answer. Were you in Boston last Saturday evening?”