“James Gathorne Kerry, as I have already given it to the court,” was the calm reply.
“In Askatoon, as I have already said in evidence; and if it is necessary to give my domicile, I live at the house of Mrs. Tyndall Tynan, Pearl Street--as you know so well.”
The tone in which he uttered the last few words was such that even the judge pricked up his ears.
A look of hatred came into the decadent but able lawyer’s face.
“Where do you live when you are at home?”
“Mrs. Tynan’s house is the only home I have at present.”
He was outwitting the pursuer so far, but it only gained him time, as he knew; and he knew also that no suggestive hint concerning the episode at Mrs. Tynan’s, when Burlingame was asked to leave her house, would be of any avail now.
“What place--what town or city or village in County Kerry?”
“What house, then--what estate?” Burlingame was more than nettled; and he sharpened his sword.
In the short silence that followed, the quick-drawn breath of many excited and some agitated people could be heard. Among the latter were Mrs. Tynan and her daughter and Malachi Deely; among those who held their breath in suspense were John Sibley, Studd Bradley the financier, and the Young Doctor. The swish of a skirt seemed ridiculously loud in the hush, and the scratching of the judge’s quill pen was noisily irritating.
“My name in Ireland was James Shiel Gathorne Crozier, commonly called Shiel Crozier,” came the even reply from the witness-box.
“James Shiel Gathorne Crozier in Ireland, but James Gathorne Kerry here!” Burlingame turned to the jury significantly. “What other name have you been known by in or out of Ireland?” he added sharply to Crozier. “No other name so far as I know.”
“No other name so far as you know,” repeated the lawyer in a sarcastic tone intended to impress the court.
“He had no profession, though he had business, of course.”
“No, he was not a lawyer! I have said he had no profession. He lived on his money on his estate.”
The judge waved down the laughter at Burlingame’s expense.
“In official documents what was his description?” snarled Burlingame.
“‘Gentleman’ was his designation in official documents.”
“You, then, were the son of a gentleman?” There was a hateful suggestion in the tone.