“You are sure you saw Leacock?”
“I saw him quite distinctly. And I would have mentioned the fact yesterday had it not involved the tacit confession of my own presence there.”
“What if it had?” demanded Markham. “It was vital information, and I could have used it this morning. You were placing your comfort ahead of the legal demands of justice; and your attitude puts a very questionable aspect on your own alleged conduct that night.”
“You are pleased to be severe, sir,” said Pfyfe with self-pity. “But having placed myself in a false position, I must accept your criticism.”
“Do you realize,” Markham went on, “that many a district attorney, if he knew what I now know about your movements, and had been treated the way you’ve treated me, would arrest you on suspicion?”
“Then I can only say,” was the suave response, “that I am most fortunate in my inquisitor.”
Markham rose.
“That will be all for to-day, Mr. Pfyfe. But you are to remain in New York until I give you permission to return home. Otherwise, I will have you held as a material witness.”
Pfyfe made a shocked gesture in deprecation of such acerbities, and bade us a ceremonious good-afternoon.
When we were alone, Markham looked seriously at Vance.