Titus sprang forward, took him by the sleeve, and led him past the group of frightened maids to a safe corner by the hall window.
From there he went on with his story.
“W-w-was in m-m-my room in my bed, s-s-sound asleep, d-dreaming of home and m-m-mother. S-s-sir,” and he turned to the Judge, “w-w-we lived in a little house b-b-by a running brook, n-n-near a w-w-wood. I woke up, s-s-sir, c-c-crying. Then I heard a s-s-sound, sir, l-l-like the sounds of o-o-old times.”
“Well?” said the Judge, encouragingly.
“I-I-I got up, sir; I put on m-m-my gown a-a-and s-s-slippers; I-I-I went out in the h-h-hall, sir.”
“And what happened?”
“Th-th-the burglars must h-h-have been waiting, s-s-sir. They j-j-jumped on me from behind. Th-th-they struck me on the h-h-head with their sharp knives, s-s-sir.”
“Did you see them?” asked the Judge, sharply.
“I-I-I thought I saw one, sir. He was all in b-b-black, sir, and he d-d-dug his knife in me.”
The Judge looked mystified. If it had been the middle of the night he would have believed Higby’s story, but early in the evening he could not for a moment suppose that any thieves would rush out and attack a person who was simply walking along a hall. However, he turned to the boys.