I congratulate you, sir," to which Brassington answered shortly, "Yes."
Mr. Kirby stroked his chin.
"Professor Higginson," he said pleasantly, "why did you forge that cheque?"
"Wha—" half gasped, half roared the Philosopher, and then he made a great gulping noise with his throat.
The clock on the mantelshelf ticked loudly. Jimmy tried to sit still. Mr. Brassington didn't try to do anything of the sort. He had half risen, when Mr. Kirby with a firm hand pushed him back into his chair.
For a minute nothing was said. Mr. Kirby occupied the minute by tapping slowly at intervals with his fountain pen upon the table. At the end of the interval Professor Higginson saved himself by speech.
He pushed his chair back from him, and stood up as a man does to address the Flap-Doodles at a political meeting.
"Mr. Brassington," he said, ignoring all the others, "it was I who forged your name. I was imprisoned, I was tortured, I was constrained by these" (and his voice trembled as he pointed to Jimmy and Melba), "these two young scoundrels, sir, these"
