"Yes, sir. And he claimed to know you," I went on, my curiosity amused over the merchant's show of feeling.
"It's a falsehood! I never heard of such a man," cried Mr. Woodward, but his face belied his words.
"Well, what is your charge against Strong?" asked Judge Penfold, impatiently, probably tired of being so utterly ignored in the discussion.
The merchant hesitated.
"I prefer to speak to you about the matter in private," he said sourly.
"That isn't fair. He ought to tell me what I am accused of," I cried, "Every one who is arrested has a right to know that. I have done no wrong and I am not afraid."
"All assumed bravery, Judge Penfold; quite assumed, sir."
"No, sir. Tell me why you want me locked up," I repeated.
But instead of replying Mr. Woodward drew Judge Penfold to the rear end of the hall and began to speak in so low a tone that I could not catch a word.
"You don't mean it!" I heard the judge say presently. "Come into the library and give me the particulars."