“He has paid me every dollar he owed me,” replied Allbright, with emphasis, and his own face flushed.
Then the man turned to Day. “Has he paid you?” he inquired.
And Day, with no hesitation, lied. “Yes, sir, he has, every darned cent,” he declared, “and I don't know what business it is of yours whether he has or not.”
“When is he coming back?” asked the man, of Allbright, not heeding Day.
“Next Monday,” replied Allbright, with confidence.
“Where does he live?” asked the man.
Then for the first time an expression of confusion came over the book-keeper's face, but Day arose to the occasion.
“He lives in Orange,” replied Day.
“What street, and number?”
“One hundred and sixty-three Water Street,” replied Day. His eyes flashed. He was finding an unwholesome exhilaration in this inspirational lying.