, agonizing silence.
Fifteen seconds! Thirty seconds! The judge's eye was on his watch. Now his
arm reached toward the electric bell, and Pussy Wilmott's heart almost
stopped beating. Now his firm red finger advanced toward the white button.

Then she yielded. "Stop!" came her low cry. "He--he was my lover."

"That is better!" said the judge, and the scratching of the _greffier's_
pen recorded unalterably Mrs. Wilmott's avowal.

"I don't suppose you will contradict the lady," said Hauteville, turning to
Kittredge. "I take your silence as consent, and, after all, the lady's
confession is sufficient. You were her lover. And the evidence shows that
you committed a crime based on passionate jealousy and hatred of a rival.
You knew that Martinez was to dine with your mistress in a private room;
you arranged to be at the same restaurant, at the same hour, and by a
cunning and intricate plan, you succeeded in killing the man you hated. We
have found the weapon of this murder, and it belongs to you; we have found
a letter written by you full of violent threats against the murdered man;
we have found footprints made by the assassin, and they absolutely fit
your boots; in short, we have the fact of the murder, the motive for the
murder, and the evidence that you committed the murder. What have you to
say for yourself?"

Kittredge thought a moment, and then said quietly: "The fact of the murder
you have, of course; the evidence against me you seem to have, although it
is false evidence; but----"

"How do you mean false evidence? Do you deny threatening Martinez with
violence?"

"I threatened to punch his head; that is very different from killing him."

"And the pistol? And the footprints?"

"I don't know, I can't explain it, but--I know I am innocent. You say I had
a motive for this crime. You're mistaken, I had _no_ motive."

"Passion and jealousy have stood as motives for murder from the beginning
of time."

"There was _no_ passion and _no_ jealousy," answered Lloyd steadily.

"Are you mocking me?" cried the judge. "What is there in these letters," he
touched the packet before him, "but passion and jealousy? Didn't you give
up your position in America for this woman?"

"Yes, but----"

"Didn't you follow her to Europe in the steerage because of your
infatuation? Didn't you bear sufferings and privations to be near her?
Shall I go over the details of what you did, as I have them here, in order
to refresh your memory