“No, sir. Some of them took their handkerchers off at dinner, because it was hot, but I didn’t.”
“Why did you not?”
For the first time Ferrar hesitated. His face turned scarlet.
“Come, speak up. The truth, mind.”
“Sally had told me not to mess my new silk handkercher, for I wasn’t likely to have another of one while; and I thought if I got untying and re-tying of it, I should mess it.” It seemed quite a task to Ferrar to confess this. He feared the boys would laugh at him. But I think no one doubted that it was the true reason.
“You did not take it off while you were sitting with the deceased?”
“No, sir. I never took it off all day.”
“Take it off now.”
Mark Ferrar looked too surprised to understand the order, and did nothing. The coroner repeated it.
“Take off this here handkercher, sir? Now?”