“Louis,” and I looked him straight in the eye, “all that sounds straightforward and true. But, if you saw nothing in the office to surprise or alarm you, why did you at first deny having passed by the office at all?”
The man had no answer for this. He was not ingenious in inventing falsehood, and he stood looking helpless and despairing. I perceived I should have to go on with my questioning.
“Was it a man or a woman you saw in there with Mr. Crawford?”
“I see nobody, sir, nobody but my master.”
That wouldn't do, then. As long as I asked him direct questions he could answer falsely. I must trip him up in some roundabout way.
“Yes,” I said pleasantly, “I understand that. And what was Mr. Crawford doing?”
“He sat at his desk;” and Louis spoke slowly, and picked his words with care.
“Was he writing?”
“No; that is, yes, sir, he was writing.”
I now knew he was not writing, for the truth had slipped out before the man could frame up his lie. I believed I was going to learn something at last, if I could make the man tell. Surely the testimony of one who saw Joseph Crawford late that night was of value, and though that testimony was difficult to obtain, it was well worth the effort.