“Once again, more slow?” suggested the student affably.
“How have you happened to become so familiar with court life?”
“Oh, me, I am not so familiar with it as that. Once-twice—that is enough for one who know how to use his eyes and ear—more is not necessary.”
“No, as you say, once or twice ought to be enough; it’s a pity that you’ve found it necessary to extend your experience. Orsini, have you ever been in jail?”
“Who—me?” The glittering smile with which Mr. Orsini was in the habit of decorating his periods was not completely withdrawn, but it became slightly more reticent. His lambent eyes roved reproachfully in the direction of Mr. Farr, who seemed more absorbed than ever in his notes. “In what kind of a jail you mean?”
Mr. Lambert looked obviously disconcerted. “I mean jail—any kind of a jail.”
“Was it up on a hill, perhaps, this jail?” inquired his victim helpfully.
“On a hill? What’s that got to do with it? How should I know whether it was on a hill?”
“A high hill, mebbe, with trees all about it?” Once more Orsini’s hands were eloquent.
“All right, all right, were you ever in a jail on a hill with trees around it?”