“Stands for lots of things, probably,” said Stearns, a bit impatiently.
“We might find that out,” mused the professor. “Where were you, Ware, that evening, the—ah—yes, the twenty-sixth of December?”
“I was in New York, visiting my aunt on Seventy-third Street. I was in the house all the evening, except for about half an hour, when I went out on an errand.”
“Well, you couldn’t have crossed the river to Brooklyn, run a mile race and returned home in half an hour,” said the professor, lightly. “Now, will you get your aunt to write me a letter, stating those facts and assuring me that you were not and could not have been in Brooklyn? It is not, you understand, that I doubt your word, Ware, but I have my duties in these affairs and I must perform them. Simply a letter, you understand, will suffice.”
“I will do my best,” Allan replied; “but——”
“Eh?” shouted Stearns.
“But my aunt has left New York city and is traveling in the West, probably in California now. I shall have to find her address from my mother first, and by that time——”
“Now, look here, sir,” interrupted Stearns. “Surely Ware’s word of honor is enough in a case of this sort? It’s only a—a coincidence of names, sir.”
“For my own satisfaction Mr. Ware’s word is sufficient,” replied the chairman, with dignity, “but the rules require evidence, and I must have it. I only ask Mr. Ware to supply me with a statement from some person who knows of his whereabouts on the evening in question. Perhaps there is some other person who will do as well?” But Allan shook his head.