ccusation deliberately, realizing the gravity of what you
say?"

"I do."

"Whom do you accuse?"

The audience literally held its breath as the girl paused before replying.
Her hands shut hard at her sides, her body seemed to stiffen and rise, then
she turned formidably with the fires of slumbering vengeance burning in her
wonderful eyes--vengeance for her mother, for her lover, for her rescuer,
for herself--she turned slowly toward the cowering nobleman and said
distinctly: "I accuse the Baron de Heidelmann-Bruck."

So monstrous, so unthinkable was the charge, that the audience sat stupidly
staring at the witness as if they doubted their own ears, and some
whispered that the thing had never happened, the girl was mad.

Then all eyes turned to the accused. He struggled to speak but the words
choked in his throat. If ever a great man was guilty in appearance, the
Baron de Heidelmann-Bruck was that guilty great man!

"I insist on saying--" he burst out finally, but the judge cut him short.

"You will be heard presently, sir. Call the next witness."

The girl withdrew, casting a last fond look at her lover, and the clerk's
voice was heard summoning M. Pougeot.

The commissary appeared forthwith and, with all the authority of his
office, testified in confirmation of Alice's story. There was no possible
doubt that the girl would have perished in the flames but for the heroism
of Paul Coquenil.

Pougeot was followed by Dr. Duprat, who gave evidence as to the return of
Alice's memory. He regarded her case as one of the most remarkable
psychological phenomena that had come under his observation, and he
declared, as an expert, that the girl's statements were absolutely worthy
of belief.

"Call the next witness," directed the judge, and the clerk of the court
sang out:

"_Paul Coquenil!_"

A murmur of sympathy and surprise ran through the room as the small door
opened, just under the painting of justice, and a gaunt, pallid figure
appeared, a tall man, wasted and weakened. He came forward leaning on a
cane and his right hand was bandaged.

"I would like to add, your Honor," said Dr. Duprat, "that M. Coquenil has
risen from a sick bed to come here; in fact, he has come against medical
advice to testify in favor of this young prisoner."

The audience was like a powder mine waiting for a spark. Only a word was
needed to set off their quivering, pent-up enthusiasm.

"What is your name?" asked the judge as the witne