"If you don't mind," replied Tim Fisher, "I'll not answer anything without the advice of my attorney."
Janet Fisher gasped.
Tim turned with a smile. "Don't you like lawyers, honey?"
"It isn't that. But isn't crying for a lawyer an admission of some sort?"
"Sure is," replied Tim Fisher. "It's an admission that I don't know all of my legal rights. If lawyers come to me because they don't know all there is to know about the guts of an automobile, I have every right to the same sort of consultation in reverse. Agree, James?"
James Holden nodded. "The man who represents himself in court has a fool for a client," he said. "I think that's Daniel Webster, but I'm not certain. No matter; it's right. Call Mr. Waterman, and until he arrives we'll discuss the weather, the latest dope in high-altitude research, or nuclear physics."
Frank Manison eyed the lad. "You're James Holden?"
"I am."
Tim interrupted. "We're not answering anything," he warned.
"Oh, I don't mind admitting my identity," said James. "I've committed no crime, I've broken no law. No one can point to a single act of mine that shows a shred of evidence to the effect that my intentions are not honorable. Sooner or later this whole affair had to come to a showdown, and I'm prepared to face it squarely."