e petrifying darkness,
her teeth chattering, her limbs trembling, poor Asako huddled her
misery into a corner of the dirty cell, to await the further tender
mercies of the Japanese criminal code. She could hear the scuttering
of rats. Had she been ten times guilty, she felt that she could not
have suffered more!

* * * * *

Daylight began to show under the crack of the door. Later on a warder
came and beckoned to Asako to follow him. She had not touched food for
twenty hours, but nothing was offered to her. She was led into a
room with benches like a schoolroom. At the master's desk sat a small
spotted man with a cloak like a scholar's gown, and a black cap with
ribbons like a Highlander's bonnet. This was the procurator. At his
side, sat his clerk, similarly but less sprucely garbed.

Asako, utterly weary, was preparing to sit down on one of the benches.
The warder pulled her up by the nape of her kimono. She had to stand
during her examination.

"What is your name? What is your age? What are your father's and
mother's names?"

The monotonous questions were repeated all over again; and then,--

"To confess were better. When you confess, we shall let you go. If you
do not confess, we keep you here for days and days."

"I am feeling sick," pleaded Asako; "may I eat something?"

The warder brought a cup of tea and some salt biscuit.

"Now, confess," bullied the procurator; "if you do not confess, you
will get no more to eat."

Asako told her story of the murder. She then told it again. Her
Japanese words were slipping from the clutch of her worn brain. She
was saying things she did not mean. How could she defend herself in a
language which was strange to her mind? How could she make this judge,
who seemed so pitiless and so hostile to her, understand and believe
her broken sentences? She was beating with a paper sword against an
armed enemy.

An interpreter was sent for; and the questions were all repeated in
English. The procurator was annoyed at Asako's refusal to speak in
Japanese. He thought that it was obstinacy, or that she was trying to
fool him. He seemed quite convinced that she was guilty.

"I can't answer any more questions. I really can't. I am sick," said
Asako, in tears.

"Take her back to the 'sty,' while we have lunch," ordered the
procurator. "I think this afternoon she will confess."

Asako was taken away, and thrust into the horrible cell again.
She coll