This attention was lost, because the lawyer seemed greatly interested in the erection of a sign over the way.
Finding looks unavailing, Obadiah reverted to his business. “A fellow on a motorcycle ran into my car this morning. He broke a leg and they took him to the hospital where he is now, I believe.”
“Who was to blame?” asked the attorney.
“I can’t tell,” Obadiah replied crossly, as he remembered Ike’s testimony. “I can’t get a thing out of that fool chauffeur of mine. His story is absurd.”
“Were there witnesses?”
“One, I think, besides my daughter.”
“What does she say?” Hezekiah tickled his chin with his glasses and examined the picture moulding as if it were something unique in that line.
“I have not asked her, directly. I thought it inadvisable. I gather that she believes herself to blame because she told the chauffeur to hurry home.”
“Ahem,” said the lawyer, resuming his dental tattoo with great spirit. “Who had the right of way?”
“The motorcycle was approaching from the right,” admitted Obadiah grudgingly.