The loud ticking of the Consul’s watch reverberated through the silent hall.
The bishop watched her keenly and a frown came upon his pallid brow as her head sank lower and lower upon her bosom.
The ticking of the Consul’s watch was now drowned in the deep breathing of those about her.
Presently the wife raised her head and searched long and questioningly the eyes of the bishop; then slowly she rose to her feet and looked over the head of her judges, somewhere beyond the Great Golden Altar of the race of Tai. A calm and contented expression came into her face; the colour flowed back into her cheeks and a happy light filled her eyes.
“I am guilty,” she said demurely.
The thin lips of the bishop twitched, and he looked over at Tai Lin, who sat grasping the table’s edge with both hands, his mouth half open, his eyes dull.
“What! Do you confess?” demanded the magistrate.
“Yes,” she replied in low tones, still looking over their heads beyond the altar.
“You confess to all charges?”
“Yes.”