" the inspector asked the policeman.

"I do not know; perhaps it is lies," he answered sulkily.

"But it is not lies," expostulated Asako, "he ran away through the
window. You can see his footmarks in the snow."

"Did you see the marks?" the policeman was asked.

"No; perhaps there were no marks."

"Did you look?"

"I did not look actually, but--"

"You're a fool!" said the inspector.

The weary questioning continued for quite two hours, until Asako had
told her story of the murder at least three times. The unfamiliar
language confused her, and the reiterated refrain:

"You, now confess; you killed the man!"

Asako was chilled to the bone. Her head was aching; her eyes were
aching; her legs were aching with the ordeal of standing. She felt
that they must soon give way altogether.

At last, the inspector closed his _questionnaire_.

"_Sa_!" he ejaculated, "it is past midnight. Even I must sleep
sometimes. Take her away to the court, and lock her in the 'sty,'
To-morrow the procurator will examine at nine o'clock. She is
pretending to be silly and not understanding; so she is probably
guilty."

Again the handcuffs and the degrading rope were fastened upon her. She
felt that she had already been condemned.

"May I send word to my friends?" she asked. Surely even the Fujinami
would not abandon her to her fate.

"No. The procurator's examination has not yet taken place. After that,
sometimes permission can be granted. That is the law."

She was left waiting in a stone-flagged guard-room, where eight or
nine policemen stared at her impertinently.

"A pretty face, eh?" they said, "it looks like a _geisha_! Who is
taking her to the court? It is Ishibashi. Oh, so! He is always the
lucky chap!"

A rough fellow thrust his hand up her kimono sleeve, and caught hold
of her bare arm near the shoulder.

"Here, Ishibashi," he cried; "you have caught a fine bird this time."

The policeman Ishibashi picked up the loose end of the rope, and drove
Asako before him into a closed van, which was soon rumbling along the
deserted streets.

She was made to alight at a tall stone building, where they passed
down several echoing corridors, until, at the end of a little passage
a warder pushed open a door. This was the "sty," where prisoners are
kept pending examination in the procurator's court. The floor and
walls were of stone. It was bitterly cold. There was no window, no
light, no firebox, and no chair. Alone, in th