“I said that gentleman was his designation in official documents. I supposed that would convey the fact that he was not living, but I see you do not quickly grasp a point.”
Burlingame was stung by the laughter in the court and ventured a riposte.
“But is once a gentleman always a gentleman an infallible rule?”
“I suppose not; I did not mean to convey that; but once a rogue always a bad lawyer holds good in every country,” was Crozier’s comment in a low, quiet voice which stirred and amused the audience again.
“I must ask counsel to put questions which have some relevance even to his own line of defence,” remarked the judge sternly. “This is not a corner grocery.”
Burlingame bowed. He had had a facer, but he had also shown the witness to have been living under an assumed name. That was a good start. He hoped to add to the discredit. He had absolutely no knowledge of Crozier’s origin and past; but he was in a position to find it out if Crozier told the truth on oath, and he was sure he would.
“Where was your domicile in the old country?” Burlingame asked.
“In County Kerry—with a flat in London.”
“An estate in County Kerry?”
“A house and two thousand acres.”