“I—I don't know. I cannot go into that matter, Mr. O'Brien. I—” Mr. Stevens was visibly distressed.
“Wasn't it in 1895 that you and he ceased to be friends?” persisted the lawyer.
“There was a terrible misunderstanding, I—that is, I should say—”
“In 1895, wasn't it?”
“I think so.” Mr. Stevens was perspiring. He looked beseechingly at the district attorney, who happened to be gazing pensively out of the window at the time.
“You were a frequent and welcome visitor at young Hildebrand's home up to 1895, weren't you?”
“It was through no fault of mine that the friendship was broken off. Mr. Hildebrand behaved in a most outrageous manner toward me.”
“Isn't it true, Mr. Stevens, that Mr. Hildebrand ordered you out of his house and told you that you were not to enter it again?”
“Mr. Hildebrand grievously misunderstood my—”
“Answer the question, please. Were you not ordered out of your friend's house?”