reiterated his assertion that his only object was to
frighten her.

"But she declares you strove to strangle her
with a cord."

"That is false. If I had had such a purpose,
I should not have led her to a place where any
alarm might be heard."

"But why lead her thither at all?"

"My employers said to me, 'Eyes are upon
you of which you know nothing. If you betray
us, you are lost.' That alarmed me."

"You have destroyed many of the effects of
your several victims. Why have you allowed
so many to remain?"

"I preserved those articles," replied the
prisoner, with perfect gravity, "for the sake of
the relations of the deceased."

Dumollard being removed, his wife was
brought forward. There was nothing noticeable
in her appearance or demeanour.

She stated, in reply to various questions, that
her husband had twice brought her, articles of
dress which he described as having been the
property of women murdered by him. She had
noticed the blood-marks, but said nothing to
her husband, with whom she lived on indifferent
terms. He was frequently absent at night,
returning before dawn and using a watchword, as
stated. Though cognisant of his guilty
practices, she continued to live with him, being
completely cowed by his menaces.

The production in court of the stolen effects
was the next scene of the legal drama. These
were brought forward in two immense chests
bound with iron clasps, and sealed.

"Ah, tiens!" murmured the assembly.
"Now for the wardrobe of M. Dumollard!"

The articles were sorted, and placed,
"chronologically," in heaps. There were seventy
handkerchiefs, fifty-seven pairs of stockings,
twenty-eight scarfs, thirty-eight caps, ten corsets,
nine gowns, and a multitude of miscellaneous
objects.

Witness after witness then entered the box,
and delivered their testimony with surprising
terseness and lucidity. Until the evidence of
each was complete, no interruption was offered,
unless when the president, observing that the
witness was merely corroborating matters already
amply deposed to, recalled the speaker to facts
bearing more immediately on the case.

Owing to this, and perhaps in some degree to
the French facilities of expression, the trial
proceeded with great rapidity.

The sixth witness, Louis Cochet, was an odd-
looking little man, with a very excited manner.
He was Dumollard' s next-door neighbour. He
stated that he had seen the prisoner come home
at two in the morning, carrying a trunk.

"He muttered 'Hardi! hardi!' at the door,
and was let in. The next day, he said to Madame
(the female prisoner), 'Aha! I have got the
watchword! I avail myself of Monsieur's
absence to call when it suits me!' Then I
asked what he did abroad so late? She grew
red, and said dryly, 'He has his own afl'airs.'
Oh, messieurs!" said the impressionable little
witness, bursting into tears. "I'm fifty-one, I
never was in a court of justice before. Now,
indeed, I know what frightful 'affairs' this
neighbour of mine dealt in!"

The seventeenth witness, Dr. Montvenoux,
detailed the autopsy of the body of Marie
Bussod, stating his belief that she had been
buried alive.

Hereupon, the prisoner's counsel rose for the
first time.

"I desire," he said, "to know the witness's
precise reasons for this presumption. We have
horrors enough to contend with, without this
crowning atrocity. The opinion of the medical
witnesses has already created a most painful
sensation."

Dr. Moutveuoux alleged, as his chief reasons,
that the wound was not mortal, nor even
severe; that a clod of the outer earth—not
that which formed the subsoil—was grasped
in the hand; and that the teeth were set, as if in
agony.

The court now adjourned for a few minutes.
Dumollard took a huge lump of bread-and-
cheese from his pocket, and began devouring it
with the appetite of an ogre. At this moment his
eye happened to fall on Marie Pichon, who was
moving through the court. Faithful to his
plan of defence, he called out to her:

"Ah, malheureuse! But for me, you would
not have been here now. Come and thank me
for rescuing you from those villains."

The girl made no reply; but her sister, who
accompanied her, retorted with such warmth
and volubility, that the dialogue was checked
by the officer of the court. A curious little
episode occurred in the waiting-room. Marie
Pichon, who was evidently regarded as the
heroine of the hour, and was distinguished by a
very pleasing countenance and ingenuous manner,
had been prevailed upon by a photographer
sent from Paris to sit for her picture. "Just as
she had taken her position, a respectably-
dressed woman forced her way through the
crowd, and, running up to Pichon, implored her
to forbear, reminding her, in accordance with a
popular belief which, it seems, existed, that all
women who have become associated in a marked
manner with great criminal processes—such as
Nina Lassave, Fieschi's mistress, "Madame"
Lacenaire, and others—came to some
melancholy end.

Marie Pichon started: "Ah, mon Dieu!
monsieur, spare me. Do not put me beside
that wretch!" she exclaimed, and was instantly
lost in the crowd.

The examination of the fifty-third witness
produced a most painful scene. This was
Josephte Bussod, sister of the murdered girl,
who, with two other sisters, appeared in deep
mourning, and testified the most profound grief.
It was necessary that she should identify the
clothes of the deceased; and, as each familiar
garment, stained with her blood, was in turn
held up, the tears and sobs of the witnesses
redoubled, and deeply affected the auditory. The
prisoners, alone, preserved their calmness.