Wiley stood up, severe and cold, his manner seeming to say, "of all things in this world, I hate a liar most!"
"And where were you at the time?"
"Standing outside the garage."
"What were you doing there?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Smoking a pipe."
"At three o'clock in the afternoon—during working hours?" Wiley made it sound like a crime. "And during this little siesta, or holiday, you saw the defendant's car going at forty-five miles an hour—is that the idea?"
"Yes, sir."
"And will you tell the jury how it was you were able to judge so exactly of the speed of a car approaching you head-on?"