anything; and it was clear that the prosecution was not satisfied
with its case, and would have liked to find more definite proof
of Lanrivain's complicity than the statement of the herb-
gatherer, who swore to having seen him climbing the wall of the
park on the night of the murder. One way of patching out
incomplete proofs in those days was to put some sort of pressure,
moral or physical, on the accused person. It is not clear what
pressure was put on Anne de Cornault; but on the third day, when
she was brought into court, she "appeared weak and wandering,"
and after being encouraged to collect herself and speak the
truth, on her honour and the wounds of her Blessed Redeemer, she
confessed that she had in fact gone down the stairs to speak with
Herve de Lanrivain (who denied everything), and had been
surprised there by the sound of her husband's fall. That was
better; and the prosecution rubbed its hands with satisfaction.
The satisfaction increased when various dependents living at
Kerfol were induced to say--with apparent sincerity--that during
the year or two preceding his death their master had once more
grown uncertain and irascible, and subject to the fits of
brooding silence which his household had learned to dread before
his second marriage. This seemed to show that things had not
been going well at Kerfol; though no one could be found to say
that there had been any signs of open disagreement between
husband and wife.

Anne de Cornault, when questioned as to her reason for going down
at night to open the door to Herve de Lanrivain, made an answer
which must have sent a smile around the court. She said it was
because she was lonely and wanted to talk with the young man.
Was this the only reason? she was asked; and replied: "Yes, by