“Naturally you didn't talk about his death, for it hadn't taken place,” said Mr. Stryker. “Nor could it have been foreseen, I imagine. But what did you talk about?”
“I decline to answer.”
There was a gasp that swept over the courtroom, and Billy Teller banged the gavel as he had seen real judges do.
“You decline to answer,” repeated the prosecutor. “Is it on the ground that it might incriminate you?”
“No.”
“Then I must insist on an answer. However, I will not do so now, but at the proper time. I will now ask you one other question, and I think you will answer that. Did you resume friendly relations with Mr. Carwell after your quarrel with him that day?” and Mr. Stryker fairly hurled the question at Harry Bartlett.
If this was a trap it was a most skillfully set one. For there must be an answer, and either no or yes would involve explanations.
“Answer me!” exclaimed the prosecutor. “Did you make up after the quarrel?”
There was a tense silence as Bartlett, whose face showed pale under his tan, said:
“I did not.”