"What she said or did will be produced in court later on," put in Mr. Harrison.
"Eh?" the merchant wheeled around. "Who are you?"
"My name is James Harrison. I am from Chicago. I am this boy's friend, and I am here to see justice done."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that you and your colleagues—Chris Holtzmann there, John Stumpy, alias Ferguson, and the late Nicholas Weaver—have foully wronged this boy's father."
"It's a lie!" cried Aaron Woodward, with a quivering lip.
"It's the truth," I said. "The plain truth, and I can prove every word of it."
"Prove it!"
"Yes, in every detail, Mr. Aaron Woodward. I have worked hard fighting for honor, but I have won. Soon my father shall be free, and for aught I know to the contrary, you will occupy his place in prison."
"I!" cried the merchant, in horror. "A likely thing!"