“Was there ever a whisper against your reputation when you were a school-girl in Monterey and most intimate with the prisoner?”
“No, señor!” cried Rosita, paying no attention to the objection. “I was a child, and could not even endure boys.”
“How many times have you seen the defendant since you left Monterey?”
Rosita cast up her eyes, then tapped the sticks of her fan successively as she spoke.
“Once she came to see me just after—ah—WCTU died; then once just before she left Mr. Peele; then that day the ‘Eye’ came out and said she had done this so horrible thing. Ay, dios!”
“She has called upon you three times only, then, since you were children in Monterey, since you have been the Rosita of the public; in the last five years, in short?”
“Si, señor—yes, sir.”
“How long did she remain upon her first visit?”
“Oh, only a little while. I told her something that shocked her, for she was always so proper.”
“What did you tell her?”