There was a dreadful silence as the judge tapped the palm of his hand with the gavel. He lifted his gaze to the ceiling then levelled it slowly on Rooney.
"So we're back to the blonde woman again, are we?"
"I'm afraid so," Rooney admitted weakly. "That's her over there, looking mad."
"I had hoped we were through with the blonde woman," the judge said acidly. "I thought we'd washed the blonde woman up."
"No, your honor, I'm afraid not."
"This isn't the same blonde woman that Pillsworth denies being, is it?"
"No, sir."
"Does she deny that she's Pillsworth, is that it?"
"No, sir," Rooney sighed hopelessly. "She's just a blonde woman. She refuses to give her name because her husband's a butcher."
"Is she a defendant or a complainant?"