The grilling began, step by step, tearing at Reilly’s defense. “You were never in the Lindbergh house, were you?” “No, sir.” “Certainly not?” “Certainly not.” “You never went in there and took that child out of that room, did you?” “No.” Bruno fidgeted, sat up, slumped down, uncrossed his legs, but his tone betrayed his contempt for Wilentz. “This is funny to you, isn’t it? You are having a lot of…” “No, absolutely not.” “You are having a lot of fun with me, aren’t you?” “No.” “You think you’re a big shot, don’t you?” “No. Should I cry?” “No, certainly you shouldn’t. You think you are bigger than anybody, don’t you?”