“Try to forget that, Michael. It has nothing whatever to do with your testimony. Now let’s begin again—Where do you reside?”
“Shure you know, Sorr.”
“Yes, I know, Clancy, but the jury doesn’t and we’re supposed to be in Court. Answer just as you would before the jury. Now—who employed you in May, 1896?”
“A boonch av scuts—no less!”
I sighed hopelessly. It was useless to continue this game.
“Perhaps we’ve had about enough for to-day, Michael,” I said. “Go to Court to-morrow and listen to some witnesses testify. You’ll soon get the idea. Then come down to the office in the afternoon and I’ll have some questions written out so that you’ll know about what you’re to be asked. There’s nothing like thorough preparation. By the way, do you want to add anything to the affidavit? The facts are all right as far as they go, I suppose?”
Clancy hesitated, wiped his mouth once or twice—smiled out of the window and ended by a general shift of his bulk. But he did not speak.
“What is it?” I asked encouragingly.
A gesture of disclaimer, almost coy this time, prefaced his reply.
“Shure Oi don’t loike ter throuble you, Sorr, an’ ’tis as loike as not to be wan av thim deetales you was spakin’ av——”