eople near him: with, however, one exception; a man
dressed entirely in black, with his head half buried in the huge collar
of a travelling ulster, and dark glasses over his eyes, appeared to be
vastly bored by the old magistrate's disquisition. Juve--for it was
he--knew too much about legal procedure to require explanations from
President Bonnet.

Suddenly a thrill ran through the room and conversation stopped
abruptly. M. Etienne Rambert had just walked down the gangway in the
court to the seat reserved for him, just in front of the witness box and
close to a kind of rostrum in which Maitre Dareuil, an old member of the
Cahors Bar, immediately took his place. M. Etienne Rambert was very
pale, but it was obvious that he was by no means overwhelmed by the
fatality overhanging him. He was, indeed, a fine figure as he took his
seat and mechanically passed his hand through his long white curls,
flinging them back and raising his head almost as if in defiance of the
inquisitive crowd that was gazing at him.

Almost immediately after he had taken his seat a door was thrown open
and the jury filed in, and then a black-gowned usher came forward and
shrilly called for silence.

"Stand up, gentlemen! Hats off, please! Gentlemen, the Court!"

With solemn, measured steps, and heads bent as if absorbed in
profoundest meditation, the judges slowly proceeded to their seats. The
president formally declared the court open, whereupon the clerk rose
immediately to read the indictment.

The Clerk of the Court at Cahors was a most excellent man, but modesty
was his distinguishing characteristic and his chief desire appeared to
be to shun responsibility, figure as little prominently as possible, and
even escape observation altogether. Assizes were not often held at
Cahors, and he had had few occasions to read an indictment as tragic as
this present one, with the result that he lacked confidence now. He read
in a toneless, monotonous voice, so nervously and softly that nobody in
the body of the court could hear a word he said, and even the jury were
obliged to lean their elbows on the desk before them and make an ear
trumpet of their hands to find out what it was all about.

Etienne Rambert, however, was only a few feet from the clerk; he did not
miss a word, and it was evident from his nervous movements every now and
then that some passages in the indictment hit him very hard indeed, and
even lessened his general confidence.

When t