A moment later, with a breath of perfume, there swept in a large, overdressed woman of forty-five with bold, dark eyes and hair that was too red to be real. She bowed to the judge with excessive affability and sat down.
"You are Madam Cecile?"
"Yes, sir."
"You keep a maison de rendez-vous on the Place de la Madeleine?"
"Yes, sir."
"Look at this man," he pointed to the prisoner. "Have you ever seen him before?"
"I have seen him—once."
"When was that?"
"This afternoon. He called at my place and—" she hesitated.
"Tell me what happened—everything."