With a cheerful smile Holymead brought the conversation to an end and went on his way. Kemp walked on hurriedly in the opposite direction. He had his eyes on a young man whom he had seen in the gallery, and who had seemed to avoid his eye. It was obvious to him that this young man, for whom he had been on the watch when Mr. Holymead spoke to him, had seized the opportunity to slip past him while he was talking to the eminent K.C. The young man, even from the back view, seemed to be well-dressed.
"Hallo, Fred," exclaimed Mr. Kemp, as he reached within a yard or two of his quarry.
"Hallo, Kincher," replied the young man, turning round. "I didn't notice you. Were you up at the court?"
"Yes, I looked in," said Mr. Kemp. "There wasn't much doing, was there?"
"No," said Fred.
"He won't trouble us any more," pursued Mr. Kemp.
"No." The young man seemed to have a dread of helping along the conversation, and therefore sought refuge in monosyllables.
Mr. Kemp coughed before he formed his question.
"Did you go up there that night?"
"No." The reply came instantaneously, but the young man followed it up with a look of inquiry to ascertain if his denial was believed.