“She meant to tease me, and said she would remain. Frank Beckett-Smythe and I agreed to fight, and settle whether she should go or stay.”
“So you ask us to believe that not only did you engage in a bout of fisticuffs in order to convoy to her home a girl already hours too late abroad, but that you alone, of all these children, can give us a correct version of occurrences on the other side of the hedge?”
“I don’t remember asking you that, sir,” said Martin seriously, and the court laughed.
Mr. Stockwell betrayed a little heat.
“You know well what I mean,” he said. “You are a clever boy. Are you not depending on your imagination for some of your facts?”
“I wish I were, sir,” was the sorrowful answer.
Quite unconsciously, Martin looked at Betsy. Some magnetic influence caused her to raise her eyes for the first time, and each gazed into the soul of the other.
Mr. Stockwell covered his retreat by an assumption of indifference.
“Fortunately, there is a host of witnesses to be heard in regard to these particular events,” he exclaimed, and Martin’s inquisition ceased.
The superintendent whispered something to Mr. Dane, who rose.