“I mean, monsieur,” she answered, “that if a man is innocent of a crime, he cannot require a lawyer to defend him.”

The judge was astonished, but he was an old man and had seen many strange events happen along the way of a criminal trial.

“But why do you say this man is innocent,” he said.

“I will show you, monsieur,” and she came around the railing into the pit of the, court before his bench.  She carried in her hand the menu upon which, at the table in the cafe the night before, she had made a drawing of the scene of the homicide.

The extraordinary event had happened so swiftly that the attorney for the prosecution had not been able to interpose an objection.  Now the nephew of the dead man spoke hurriedly, in whispers, and the attorney arose.

“I object to this irregular proceeding,” he said.  “If this person is a witness, let her be sworn in the usual manner and let her take her place in the witness-chair where she may be examined by the attorney whom the court may see fit to appoint for the defense.”

It was evident that Mr. Thompson, urging the prosecutor, was alarmed.  The folds of his obese neck lying above the collar of his coat took on a deeper color, and his mouth visibly sagged as with some unexpected emotion.  He felt that he was becoming entangled in some vast, invisible net spread about him by this girl who had appeared as if by magic before the Hotel Markheim.

The judge looked down at the attorney.  “I will have the witness sworn,” he said, “but I shall not at present appoint anybody to conduct an examination.  When a prisoner before me has no counsel, I sometimes look after his case myself.”

He spoke to the girl.  “Will you hold up your hand?” he said.

“Why, yes, monsieur,” she said, “if you will also ask Mr. Thompson to hold up his hand.”

“Do you wish him sworn as a witness?” said the judge.

The girl hesitated.  “Yes, monsieur,” she said, “if that is the way to have him hold up his hand.”

Again Thompson was disturbed.  Again he spoke to the prosecutor and again that attorney objected.

“We have not asked to have Mr. Thompson testify in this case,” he said.  “It is true Mr. Thompson is concerned about the result of this trial.  He is the nephew of the decedent and his heir.  It is only natural that he should properly concern himself to see that the assassin is brought to justice.”

He spoke to the girl.  “Do you wish to make Mr. Thompson your witness?” he said.

And again she replied with the hesitating formula: 

“Why, yes, monsieur, if that is the way to cause him to hold up his hand.”

The judge turned to the clerk.  “Will you administer the oath to these two persons?” he said.

Thompson rose.  His face was disconcerted and slack.  He hesitated, but the prosecutor spoke to him.  Then he faced the judge and put up his hand.  Immediately the girl cried out: