"Ralph," he said, "take the witness-stand."
Sharpman saw that he was foiled.
He turned to the court, white with passion.
"I protest," he exclaimed, "against this proceeding! It is contrary to both law and courtesy. I demand the privilege of consulting with my client!"
"Counsel has a right to call the boy as a witness," said the judge, dispassionately, "and to put him on the stand at once. Let him be sworn."
Ralph pushed his way up to the witness-stand, and the officer administered the oath. He was a sorry-looking witness indeed.
At any other time or in any other place, his appearance would have been ludicrous. But now no one laughed. The people in the court-room began to whisper, "Hush!" fearing lest the noise of moving bodies might cause them to lose the boy's words.
To Goodlaw it was all a mystery. He did not know how to begin the examination. He started at a venture.
"Are you Robert Burnham's son?"
"No, sir," replied Ralph, firmly. "I ain't."