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The Chief looked him firmly in the eye. “It can’t be the truth,” he announced.

“Why—why, what do you mean, sir?”

“I mean there’s a mistake somewhere. We have indisputable evidence that Mr. Tarneverro was elsewhere during that time.”

The old man drew himself up proudly. “I do not like your tone, sir. The word of Thomas MacMaster has never been questioned before, and I have not come here to be insulted——”

“I don’t question your word. You’ve made a mistake, that’s all. Tarneverro left you at eight-thirty, you claim. Did you verify that by your own watch?”

“I did.”

“The watch might have been wrong.”

“It was wrong.”

“What!”

“It was a wee bit fast—a matter of three minutes. I compared it with the hotel clock, which stood at eight- thirty-two.”

“You're not—pardon me—a young man, Mr. MacMaster?”

“Is that also forbidden by law in the States, sir?”

“What I mean is—your eyes——”

“My eyes, sir, are as good as yours, and better. Mr. Tarneverro left us at eight-thirty—the correct time. He had been with us since we came out from our dinner, save for a brief period when he talked with a gentleman at the far end of the lounge. And during that time he did not leave our sight. That I say—and that I'll stand by”—he banged a great fist on the desk—“until hell freezes over!”

“Father—don’t get excited,” put in the old lady.