"He is your dog, not ours," declared the lawyer, pacing the brick floor.
"Peace, gentlemen," admonished Sara. "Let us discuss it calmly."
"Calmly?" gasped Mr. Wrandall.
"Calmly!" snapped the lawyer.
"At least deliberately. It appears, Mr. Wrandall, that Smith has been working on the theory all along that it was I who went to the inn with Challis. You recall the description given of the woman? She was of my size and figure, they said at the time. Well, he has—"
"It is infamous!" shouted Mr. Wrandall, springing to his feet. "He shall hear from me to-night. I shall have him lodged in jail before—"
"You will do nothing of the sort," interrupted Sara firmly. "I think you will do well to hear his side of the story. And remember, sir, that it would be very difficult for me to establish an alibi."
"Bless me!" groaned the old man. Then his eyes brightened. "But Miss Castleton can prove that for you, my dear. Don't forget Miss Castleton."
"Miss Castleton did not come to me, you should remember, until after the—the trouble. It occurred the second night after my arrival from Europe. Mr. Smith has discovered that I was not in my rooms at the hotel that night."
"You were not?" fell from Mr. Wrandall's lips. "Where were you?"