“And the rest stayed in?”
He has to admit that it did; very ungraciously, however.
“How many panes to the window?”
He cannot answer this; but the judge, much to my surprise, comes to the rescue and elicits the fact that there are six.
“How far had I gone through a twelfth of your window?” I ask.
His face gets redder, and there is a laugh through the court. I feel that I have “scored a try,” as they say, and my spirits begin to rise again.
But, alas! they are soon damped. Mrs. Thompson's butler steps into the witness-box, and a more shameless liar I have never heard. Yes, he remembers an organ-grinder coming to the house on various occasions during the past fortnight. Here I interpose.
“What did he play?” I ask.
“Not being interested in such kinds of music, I cannot say.”
“Possibly you have a poor ear?” I suggest.