“That I don’t know. It’s a mystery to me.”
“I should gladly give you aid if it were possible.”
“I’m only asking that you tell me all you know.”
“All an infant in arms would know would be of little value, I fear.”
“But you must know something by hearsay. Father would not take this turn out of a clear sky. There must be a little moisture where there are so many clouds.”
“But, Mr. Fox, I’ve told you–––”
“See here, Mr. McGowan,” broke in Harold impatiently, “don’t think me thickheaded. I’ve been practising law long enough 75 to smell a rat when it’s round. Father knows something, and he knows you know something. In some way it involves him. His trouble to-night was purely mental.”
“Suppose I am connected with all this mystery in some way, how on earth can a man call on a child’s empty memory–––”
“You’re stalling, Mr. McGowan. Don’t try that alibi stuff with me. It simply won’t go.”
“You refuse to accept my statement of ignorance concerning this man?”