"How often did the witness tell you she was there, Mr. Allison?" asked the judge-advocate, turning, to his consternation, upon that gentleman.
Allison went crimson in an instant. "Well, I paid so little attention. It was all so frivolous," he stammered.
"Yet he was the witness named by Mr. Elmendorf, I believe,—the only one; and you had him come to your office and you questioned him there, did you not?"
"I did, yes, but the impression passed away almost immediately. The man wasn't worthy of confidence."
"When you hear his story you may think otherwise," said Elmendorf, with a contemptuous sneer.
"I have heard," said the judge-advocate; "but we'll hear it again.—Send Starkey's friend in here," he said to the messenger; and presently in came a hangdog, corner-loafer specimen of the shabby-genteel young man, supremely impudent on his native heath, but wofully ill at ease now. "This is your reputable witness, Mr. Elmendorf."
"I protest against indignity to my witnesses or browbeating of any kind. This is not a court, and he's not on oath."
"Certainly not. He's saved us all the trouble by telling the truth beforehand.—Now you can tell us how you came to chase the young lady into that door-way," said the judge-advocate, turning suddenly on the shrinking new-comer.
"Well, sir, I'd been drinking, and I thought she was—a girl I knew."
"Yes? and when you caught her in the vestibule what happened?"