“Mr. Wendell, when was it that you lent the box?” asked Professor Fuller, speaking for the first time.
“About fifteen minutes before, while we were coming up the hill from the lake,” answered Ray.
“To whom did you lend it?” asked Dr. Drayton quickly.
It was not a fair question, and Ray made no immediate reply. He saw that a full and accurate answer would turn upon me the suspicion of having lighted the cannons. It was an excellent opportunity, had he been disposed to accept it, for him to retaliate upon me for my supposed falseness to him. But this, I knew, was the kind of retaliation which Ray Wendell despised. However much he may have doubted me at that moment, it could in no way affect his own sense of honor.
In answering, he measured his words carefully.
“It was dark, sir—too dark to recognize anybody, except close by. Some one behind me asked for my match box—I did not see him, but handed it back without turning around.”
“But you recognized his voice, did you not?” questioned Dr. Drayton, pushing the inquiry eagerly.
Ray hesitated.
“Dr. Drayton,” he said at length, “granted that I knew who it was, could I be expected to tell—to——”
I could stand it no longer, so I broke in again.