The obvious answer was that he guessed at it, but the young man did not make it.
"I do it by means of telegraph poles and counting seconds."
It then appeared that the young man was accustomed to timing automobile and motorcycle races.
Lydia saw Foster faintly smile as he glanced at his chief. Evidently the defense had fallen into a neatly laid little trap. She glanced at Wiley and saw that he was pretending to be delighted.
"Exactly, exactly!" he was saying, pointing an accusing finger at the witness; "You and Drummond used to go to motorcycle races together."
He did it very well, but it did not succeed. The jury were left with the impression that the People's witness on speed was one to be believed.
CHAPTER X
Strangely enough, the days of her trial were among the happiest and the most interesting that Lydia had ever known. They had a continuity of interest that kept her calm and equable. Usually when she woke in the softest of beds and lifted her cheek from the smoothest of pillows she asked herself what she should do that day. Choice was open to her—innumerable choices—all unsatisfactory, because her own satisfaction was the only element to be considered.
But during her trial she did not ask this question. She had an occupation and an object for living, not so much to save herself as to humiliate O'Bannon. The steady, strong interest gave shape and pattern to her days, like the thread of a string of beads.