He did not know how to begin the
examination. He started at a venture.
"Are you Robert Burnham's son?"
"No, sir," replied Ralph, firmly. "I ain't."
There was a buzz of excitement in the room. Old Simon sat staring
at the boy incredulously. His anger had changed for the moment into
wonder. He could not understand the cause of Ralph's action. Sharpman
had not told him of the interview with Rhyming Joe--he had not thought
it advisable.
"Who are you, then?" inquired Goodlaw.
"I'm Simon Craft's grandson." The excitement in the room ran higher.
Craft raised himself on his cane to lean toward Sharpman. "He lies!"
whispered the old man, hoarsely; "the boy lies!"
Sharpman paid no attention to him.
"When did you first learn that you are Mr. Craft's grandson?"
continued the counsel for the defence.
"Last night," responded Ralph.
"Where?"
"At Mr. Sharpman's office."
The blood rushed suddenly into Sharpman's face. He understood it all
now; Ralph had overheard.
"Who told you?" asked Goodlaw.
"No one told me, I heard Rhymin' Joe--"
Sharpman interrupted him.
"I don't know," he said, "if the court please, what this boy is trying
to tell nor what wild idea has found lodgement in his brain; but I
certainly object to the introduction of such hearsay evidence as
counsel seems trying to bring out. Let us at least know whether the
responsible plaintiff in this case was present or was a party to this
alleged conversation."
"Was Mr. Craft present?" asked Goodlaw of the witness.
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