"
"Did you think that I knew when you came into the office?"
"I don't believe you did."
"Why did you not make your presence known?"
"Well, I--I--"
"Come, out with it! If you had any reason for playing the spy, let's
hear what it was."
"I didn't play the spy. I didn't think o' bein' mean that way, but
when I heard Rhymin' Joe tell you 'at I wasn't Robert Burnham's son,
I was so s'prised, an' scart-like 'at I couldn't speak."
This was a little more than Sharpman wanted, but he kept on:--
"How long were you under the control of this spirit of muteness?"
"Sir?"
"How long was it before the power to speak returned to you?"
"Oh! not till Rhymin' Joe went out, I guess. I felt so bad I didn't
want to speak to anybody."
"Did you see this person whom you call Rhyming Joe?"
"Only in the dark."
"Not so as to recognize him by sight?"
"No, sir."
"How did you know it was he?"
"By the way he talked."
"How long is it since you have been accustomed to hearing him talk?"
"About three years."
"Did you see me last night?"
"I caught a glimpse of you jest once."
"When?"
"When you went across the room an' gave Rhymin' Joe the money."
Sharpman flushed angrily. He felt that he was treading on dangerous
ground in this line of examination. He went on more cautiously.
"At what time did you leave my office last night?"
"Right after Rhymin' Joe did. I went out to find him."
"Then you went away without letting me know of your presence there,
did you?"
"Yes, sir.
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