ving of
her bosom, the indignant flashing of her eyes.

"I beg your pardon for expressing such a thought," he said simply. "It's a
matter that concerns the judge, only ladies dislike going to the Palais de
Justice."

She started in alarm. "You mean that I might have to go there?"

"Your testimony is important, and the judge cannot very well come here."

"But, I'd rather talk to you; really, I would. You can ask me questions
and--and then tell him. Go on, I don't mind. M. Kittredge was _not_ my
lover--there! Please make that perfectly clear. He was a dear, loyal
friend, but nothing more."

"Was he enough of a friend to be jealous of Martinez?"

"What was there to make him jealous?"

"Well," smiled Coquenil, "I can imagine that if a dear, loyal friend found
the lady he was dear and loyal to having supper with another man in a
private room, he _might_ be jealous."

To which Pussy replied with an accent of finality but with a shade of
pique: "The best proof that M. Kittredge would not be jealous of me is that
he loves another woman."

"The girl at Notre-Dame?"

"Yes."

"But Martinez knew her, too. There might have been trouble over her,"
ventured M. Paul shrewdly.

She shook her head with eager positiveness. "There was no trouble."

"You never knew of any quarrel between Kittredge and Martinez? No words?"

"Never."

"Madam," continued Coquenil, "as you have allowed me to speak frankly, I am
going to ask if you feel inclined to make a special effort to help M.
Kittredge?"

"Of course I do."

"Even at the sacrifice of your own feelings?"

"What do you mean?"

"Let me go back a minute. Yesterday you made a plucky effort to serve your
friend, you gave money for a lawyer to defend him, you even said you would
come forward and testify in his favor if it became necessary."

"Ah, the girl has seen you?"

"More than that, she has seen M. Kittredge at the prison. And I am sorry to
tell you that your generous purposes have accomplished nothing. He refuses
to accept your money and----"

"I told you he didn't love me," she interrupted with a touch of bitterness.

"We must have better evidence than that, just as we must have better
evidence of his innocence than your testimony. After all, you don't _know_
that he did not fire this shot, you could not _see_ through the wall, and
for all you can say, M. Kittredge _may_ have been in Number Seven."

"I suppose that's true," admitted Pussy dolefully.

"So we c