The silence was broken by an uncontrollable burst of laughter from Miss Trevor.  She was quickly frowned down by her father, who reminded her that this was not a comedy.

“And, Mr. Allen,” he said, “if you have anything to say, or any evidence to bring forward, now is the time to do it.”

He appeared to forget that I was the district attorney.

The Celebrity had seated himself on the trunk of a tree, and was blowing out the smoke in clouds.  He was inclined to take Miss Thorn’s advice, for he made a gesture of weariness with his cigarette, in the use of which he was singularly eloquent.

“Tell me, Mr. Trevor,” said he, “why I should sit before you as a tribunal?  Why I should take the trouble to clear myself of a senseless charge?  My respect for you inclines me to the belief that you are laboring under a momentary excitement; for when you reflect that I am a prominent, not to say famous, author, you will realize how absurd it is that I should be an embezzler, and why I decline to lower myself by an explanation.”

Mr. Trevor picked up the paper and struck it.

“Do you refuse to say anything in the face of such evidence as that?” he cried.

“It is not a matter for refusal, Mr. Trevor.  It is simply that I cannot admit the possibility of having committed the crime.”

“Well, sir,” said the senator, his black necktie working out of place as his anger got the better of him, “I am to believe, then, because you claim to be the author of a few society novels, that you are infallible?  Let me tell you that the President of the United States himself is liable to impeachment, and bound to disprove any charge he may be accused of.  What in Halifax do I care for your divine-right-of-authors theory?  I’ll continue to think you guilty until you are shown to be innocent.”

Suddenly the full significance of the Celebrity’s tactics struck Mr. Cooke, and he reached out and caught hold of Mr. Trevor’s coattails.  “Hold on, old man,” said he; “Allen isn’t going to be ass enough to own up to it.  Don’t you see we’d all be jugged and fined for assisting a criminal over the border?  It’s out of consideration for us.”

Mr. Trevor looked sternly over his shoulder at Mr. Cooke.

“Do you mean to say, sir, seriously,” he asked, “that, for the sake of a misplaced friendship for this man, and a misplaced sense of honor, you are bound to shield a guest, though a criminal?  That you intend to assist him to escape from justice?  I insist, for my own protection and that of my daughter, as well as for that of the others present that, since he refuses to speak, we must presume him guilty and turn him over.”

Mr. Trevor turned to Mrs. Cooke, as if relying on her support.

“Fenelon,” said she, “I have never sought to influence your actions when your friends were concerned, and I shall not begin now.  All I ask of you is to consider the consequences of your intention.”