to her said (leaning forward a little, one may suppose, from his
row of dozing colleagues): "Then you would have us believe that
you murdered your husband because he would not let you keep a pet
dog?"

"I did not murder my husband."

"Who did, then? Herve de Lanrivain?"

"No."

"Who then? Can you tell us?"

"Yes, I can tell you. The dogs--" At that point she was carried
out of the court in a swoon.

. . . . . . . .

It was evident that her lawyer tried to get her to abandon this
line of defense. Possibly her explanation, whatever it was, had
seemed convincing when she poured it out to him in the heat of
their first private colloquy; but now that it was exposed to the
cold daylight of judicial scrutiny, and the banter of the town,
he was thoroughly ashamed of it, and would have sacrificed her
without a scruple to save his professional reputation. But the
obstinate Judge--who perhaps, after all, was more inquisitive
than kindly--evidently wanted to hear the story out, and she was
ordered, the next day, to continue her deposition.

She said that after the disappearance of the old watch-dog