‘I am here on very serious business indeed. Your husband is accused of—well, that is, he is suspected of murder.’
‘Murder!’ broke like an echo from the wife’s lips, and all present started to their feet in deadly alarm, as if a bombshell had been exploded in the room.
‘I am accused of murder?’ gasped Ivanoff, looking dazed, as if he had received a blow on the head that had half stunned him.
‘Yes, murder,’ answered the Judge solemnly.
‘The murder of whom?’ asked the wife, a half-incredulous smile on her face.
‘Mr. Riskoff.’
‘Riskoff!’ echoed the poor lady, as the smile gave place to a look of terror, and she fixed her eyes on her husband as if every hope she had on earth hung on the words he would next utter.
‘Is he dead?’ Ivanoff gasped, the dazed expression strengthening.
‘Yes,’ said the Judge, ‘and you are charged with having murdered him.’
Ivanoff broke into a strange laugh as he exclaimed: