All are valuable in an election, and a few of
them are honest. This one, my neighbor told me, had held office as a
police justice and was a leader in his district.
Cartwright drew his gloves carefully from his hands, laid his silk hat
on a chair, dropped into it a package of legal papers tied with a red
string, and, adjusting his glasses, fixed his eyes on the mail-carrier.
The expression on his face was bland and seductive.
"At what hour do you say the attempted robbery took place, Mr.
Bowditch?"
"About eleven o'clock."
"Did you have a watch?"
"No."
"How do you know, then?" The question was asked in a mild way as if he
intended to help the carrier's memory.
"I don't know exactly; it may have been half-past ten or eleven."
"You, of course, saw the man's face?"
"No."
"Then you heard him speak?" Same tone as if trying his best to encourage
the witness in his statements.
"No." This was said with some positiveness. The mail-carrier evidently
intended to tell the truth.
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