“Take him into the outer room,” directed the judge, “until I ring.”

The guard opened the door and motioned to Maitre Pleindeaux, who passed out first, followed by the prisoner and then by the guard himself.  At the threshold Kittredge turned, and for a second his eyes met Pussy’s eyes.

“Please sit down, madam,” said the judge, and then for nearly half an hour he talked to her, questioned her, tortured her.  He knew all that Coquenil knew about her life, and more; all about her two divorces and her various sentimental escapades.  And he presented this knowledge with such startling effectiveness that before she had been five minutes in his presence poor Pussy felt that he could lay bare the innermost secrets of her being.

And, little by little, he dragged from her the story of her relations with Kittredge, going back to their first acquaintance.  This was in New York about a year before, while she was there on business connected with some property deeded to her by her second husband, in regard to which there had been a lawsuit.  Mr. Wilmott had not accompanied her on this trip, and, being much alone, as most of her friends were in the country, she had seen a good deal of M. Kittredge, who frequently spent the evenings with her at the Hotel Waldorf, where she was stopping.  She had met him through mutual friends, for he was well connected socially in New York, and had soon grown fond of him.  He had been perfectly delightful to her, and—­well, things move rapidly in America, especially in hot weather, and before she realized it or could prevent it, he was seriously infatuated, and—­the end of it was, when she returned to Paris he followed her on another steamer, an extremely foolish proceeding, as it involved his giving up a fine position and getting into trouble with his family.

“You say he had a fine position in New York?” questioned the judge.  “In what?”

“In a large real-estate company.”

“And he lived in a nice way?  He had plenty of money?”

“For a young man, yes.  He often took me to dinner and to the theater, and he was always sending me flowers.”

“Did he ever give you presents?”

“Ye-es.”

“What did he give you?”

“He gave me a gold bag that I happened to admire one day at Tiffany’s.”

“Was it solid gold?”

“Yes.”

“And you accepted it?”

Pussy flushed under the judge’s searching look.  “I wouldn’t have accepted it, but this happened just as I was sailing for France.  He sent it to the steamer.”

“Ah!  Have you any idea how much M. Kittredge paid for that gold bag?”

“Yes, for I asked at Tiffany’s here and they said the bag cost about four hundred dollars.  When I saw M. Kittredge in Paris I told him he was a foolish boy to have spent all that money, but he was so sweet about it and said he was so glad to give me pleasure that I hadn’t the heart to refuse it.”