“Yes.”
“Mr. Aylmore, the Member of Parliament.”
Spargo could not avoid a glance at the two sisters. The elder’s head was averted; the younger was staring at the witness steadily. And Breton was nervously tapping his fingers on the crown of his shining silk hat.
“Mr. Aylmore, the Member of Parliament,” repeated the Counsel’s suave, clear tones. “Oh! And how did you come to recognize Mr. Aylmore, Member of Parliament?”
“Well, sir, in this way. At home, I’m the secretary of our Liberal Ward Club, and last year we had a demonstration, and it fell to me to arrange with the principal speakers. I got Mr. Aylmore to come and speak, and naturally I met him several times, in London and in Scotland.”
“So that you knew him quite well?”
“Oh yes, sir.”
“Do you see him now, Mr. Lyell?”
Lyell smiled and half turned in the box.
“Why, of course!” he answered. “There is Mr. Aylmore.”