"Left; I am quite sure of it."
He tapped the folded paper against his hand, and said—
"One of us is wrong. Scorer has been in my service for fifteen years, and I ought to know."
"Suppose we ask my wife if she remembers?"
I called her and put the question.
"His left foot was the lame one," she said, after a thoughtful pause. "I can see him standing there"—she said it so decidedly that we involuntarily turned to look, but he was not there, except in her memory—"and it was his right shoulder that humped up. Yes, I am quite sure of it."
"This is very curious," said Mr. Sawyer. "I am afraid there is something wrong. Besides, Scorer never could have done such a thing. He was as honest as the day."
"And yet he let this cottage sixteen times over to sixteen different parties, and I have had the privilege, such as it is, of holding the fort against them all."
"I can't believe William Scorer would do such a thing," he said, looking at us with eyes full of puzzled suspicion, as though he were not quite sure whether I had told him all I knew of the matter.
"Joseph," said I.