Laura was very pale, but this pallor heightened the lustre of her large eyes and gave a touching sadness to her expressive face.  She was dressed in simple black, with exquisite taste, and without an ornament.  The thin lace vail which partially covered her face did not so much conceal as heighten her beauty.  She would not have entered a drawing room with more self-poise, nor a church with more haughty humility.  There was in her manner or face neither shame nor boldness, and when she took her seat in fall view of half the spectators, her eyes were downcast.  A murmur of admiration ran through the room.  The newspaper reporters made their pencils fly.  Mr. Braham again swept his eyes over the house as if in approval.  When Laura at length raised her eyes a little, she saw Philip and Harry within the bar, but she gave no token of recognition.

The clerk then read the indictment, which was in the usual form.  It charged Laura Hawkins, in effect, with the premeditated murder of George Selby, by shooting him with a pistol, with a revolver, shotgun, rifle, repeater, breech-loader, cannon, six-shooter, with a gun, or some other, weapon; with killing him with a slung-shot, a bludgeon, carving knife, bowie knife, pen knife, rolling pin, car, hook, dagger, hair pin, with a hammer, with a screw-driver; with a nail, and with all other weapons and utensils whatsoever, at the Southern hotel and in all other hotels and places wheresoever, on the thirteenth day of March and all other days of the Christian era wheresoever.

Laura stood while the long indictment was read; and at the end, in response to the inquiry, of the judge, she said in a clear, low voice; “Not guilty.”  She sat down and the court proceeded to impanel a jury.

The first man called was Michael Lanigan, saloon keeper.

“Have you formed or expressed any opinion on this case, and do you know any of the parties?”

“Not any,” said Mr. Lanigan.

“Have you any conscientious objections to capital punishment?”

“No, sir, not to my knowledge.”

“Have you read anything about this case?”

“To be sure, I read the papers, y’r Honor.”

Objected to by Mr. Braham, for cause, and discharged.

Patrick Coughlin.

“What is your business?”

“Well—­I haven’t got any particular business.”

“Haven’t any particular business, eh?  Well, what’s your general business?  What do you do for a living?”

“I own some terriers, sir.”

“Own some terriers, eh?  Keep a rat pit?”

“Gentlemen comes there to have a little sport.  I never fit ’em, sir.”

“Oh, I see—­you are probably the amusement committee of the city council.  Have you ever heard of this case?”

“Not till this morning, sir.”

“Can you read?”

“Not fine print, y’r Honor.”

The man was about to be sworn, when Mr. Braham asked,