"What—who—who is that gentleman—talking to the judges?" she whispered. The words could barely be heard.
"President Floriot, from Toulouse," answered Raymond. He supposed that she had asked this apparently idle question to conceal the real thought that had caused her agitation, and so went on earnestly:
"Believe me, madame, your silence may lose your case for you. I beg you to speak!"
She drew the cloth more closely about her face and stared out over his head with wild eyes. With a shrug of his shoulders Raymond dropped back into his chair and turned to listen to the examination of Chouquet. He was beginning to feel more master of himself and more certain that his case was hopeless.
"State your name, age, and profession!" commanded the President as Victor took his stand behind the witness railing.
"Victor Emmanuel Chouquet, twenty-nine years of age, boots of the Hotel of the Three Crowns," replied Victor in his high-pitched drawl.
"Where do you live?"
"At the hotel, M. the President."
"You are no relation of the prisoner, are you, or in any way connected with her service?"
"No, M. the President."