“Well, did the lad come?” inquired Lawyer Summons, somewhat sarcastically.
“He did that, an’ he tellit me as how he’d foond the brither, an’ leadit him hame, an’ would na want me; an’ I said ‘good-nicht’ till the lad, an’ started to bed, an’ the clock struckit eleven.”
“Who was the lad that came to your house?”
“Tom Taylor, sir.”
Rennie started in his seat as the name was spoken, and the blood mounted into his pale forehead as he gazed intently at the witness.
“Did the boy go in the direction of the breaker from your house?” questioned Summons.
“He did, sir.”
“How long was it after he left you that you heard the cry of fire?”
“Well, maybe the time o’ ten minutes.”