"No. You played the game strictly according to the rules. Unfortunately, however…"
Sharply Masters cut across the amenities.
"You might begin," he said, "from the time Mr. Drake locked you up behind the iron door at just past midnight — Well!’
To tell the truth," Stannard admitted, "I was not as easy in my mind as I led others to think. I have — some imagination too. But there it was; it had to be done, and more than done. So I opened the door of the execution shed." Again he looked at Martin. "You never saw it. Nor did any of the others. I'd better describe it. It was—"
"I don't want to hear any of that sir," snapped Masters.
"Oh?" Stannard slowly turned his head back. "You 'don't want to hear any of that?"'
"No. Not by a jugful!"
"Thus," Stannard said evenly, "denying a witness his right to give testimony in his own way. The other name is coercion. May God help you if I ever quoted your words in court"
Sling went the mental whip across Masters's face. Masters, dogged and conscientious, was inwardly raving. But he remained impassive, with sheathed claws.
"Hurrum! My mistake. Go on!"