might run, for a nice sort of gentleman he seems to be."
Hume and I looked at Turner, then at each other.
"Are you sure that it was Mr. Philip Lawrence?"
Turner gazed at me resentfully.
"Am I sure? Do you think I'd say a thing like that of a gentleman if I wasn't sure that it was him? Not likely!"
Hume interposed.
"Do you wish us to understand that Mr. Philip Lawrence attacked you in the manner you describe without having, first of all, received provocation from you?"
"I don't know what you call provocation. All I said to him I've said to you. I don't know what provocation there was in saying that it was a sad thing about his brother."
"You did not say, or do, anything else?"
"I didn't do anything at all—he did all the doing; and what I've said I've told you."
"Turner, I know Mr. Philip Lawrence intimately. He is not a man to commit an unprovoked assault. Either you have mistaken some one else for him, or, consciously or unconsciously, you have kept back from us something which appeared to him to be a sufficient justification for what he did."
