He turned to me.
"Sir--you have testified to the police that it was a bit past seven when you heard in the room above the sounds of the struggle which--which--You understand." In view of the mission of the caller who had departed a scant hour previously, the boy's question startled me.
"Such was my testimony," I answered.

"It was the truth." "Naturally," said Lieutenant Fraser-Freer.

"But--er--as a matter of fact, we are here to ask that you alter your testimony.

Could you, as a favor to us who have suffered so cruel a loss--a favor we should never forget--could you not make the hour of that struggle half after six ?" I was quite overwhelmed.
"Your--reasons ?" I managed at last to ask.
"I am not able to give them to you in full," the boy answered.

"I can only say this: It happens that at seven o'clock last Thursday night I was dining with friends at the Savoy--friends who would not be likely to forget the occasion." The old general leaped to his feet.
"Norman," he cried, "I can not let you do this thing! I simply will not--" "Hush, father," said the boy wearily.