On the doodle-pad a freshly drawn bull contemplated a tiny spinster—angular long skirt, hat with cherries, defensive umbrella. No fence between her and the beast. Mann drew one, post-and-rail, the top rail fallen. He felt rather proud of the bull: a fine solidity in the foreshortened barrel body; grandeur and melancholy. He sketched in grass and bending daisies to answer the curves of huge elongated scrotum and ponderous sheath. In the right foreground he added a miniature rabbit bundled up in a black gown. Cecil might enjoy the damned thing, on some relaxed evening far in time from the present hour.
"I don't—I don't understand the question."
"Very well—I withdraw it. Is that wrist watch the one you were wearing on the evening of last August 16th?"
"Yes."
"Does it have a luminous dial?"
"No, I don't want radium and things in my system."
"But last August 16th, in the deep twilight after nine o'clock, you could easily read it?"
She smirked, recovering. "Lights were on in the living-room."
Judge Mann watched Hunter's faint smile appear and fade.