e wants, or needs. She has quite
abnormal will-power, and will-power is _the_ conqueror. If I'm to tell
you the truth, I see only one reason for doubt, I don't say fear, as to
the result."

"Can you tell me what it is?"

"Aristide Dumeny."

At this moment the Judge returned to the bench. An hour later he began
to sum up.

He spoke very slowly and rather monotonously, and at first Dion thought
that he was going to be "let down" by this almost cruelly level finale
to a dramatic, sometimes even horrible, struggle between powerful
opposing forces. But presently he began to come under a new fascination,
the fascination of a cool and very clear presentation of undressed
facts. Led by the Judge, he reviewed again the complex life at
Constantinople, he followed again Mrs. Clarke's many steps away from the
beaten paths, he penetrated again through some of the winding ways into
the shadows of the unwise life. And he began to wonder a little and a
little to fear for the woman who was sitting so near to him waiting for
the end. He could not tell whether the Judge believed her to be innocent
or guilty, but he thought he could tell that the Judge considered her
indiscreet, too heedless of those conventions on which social relations
are based, too determined a follower after the flitting light of her own
desires. Presently the position of Beadon Clarke in the Constantinople
_menage_ was touched upon, and suddenly Dion found himself imagining how
it would be to have as his wife a Mrs. Clarke. Suppose Rosamund were
to develop the unconventional idiosyncrasies of a Cynthia Clarke? He
realized at once that he was not a Beadon Clarke; he could never stand
that sort of thing. He felt hot at the mere thought of his Rosamund
making night expeditions in caiques alone with young men--such, for
instance, as Hadi Bey; or listening alone at midnight in a garden
pavilion isolated, shaded by trees, to the music made by a Dumeny.

Dumeny! The Judge pronounced his name.

"I come now to the respondent's relation with the second co-respondent,
Aristide Dumeny of the French Embassy in Constantinople."

Dion leaned slightly forward and looked at Dumeny. Dumeny was sitting
bolt upright, and now, as the Judge mentioned his name, he folded his
arms, raised his long dark eyes, and gazed steadily at the bench. Did he
know that he was the danger in the case? If he did he did not show any
apprehension. His white face, typically French, with its rather lo