Now interpretation takes time, during which time the person with most to gain can be thinking of the tale he will tell next. So the prosecuting solicitor stood up before Dafydd Dafis, and this kind of thing began:
"Were you on this land at ten o'clock that night?"
("Oeddych chi ar y tir yma am ddeg o'r gloch y noson hono, Dafydd Dafis?" This from the interpreter.)
A rapid denial from Dafydd, not a hair of his shaggy moustache moving.
"Ask him where he was."
"Lle r'oeddych chi, Dafydd Dafis?"
The harpist, his fingers twisting his cap, answered that he had been at Pritchard's farm, and this also was translated.
"Have you any witnesses?"
("Oes genych chi dystion, Dafydd Dafis?")
"Eh?"