'H'm! Well, he was a man: and you will admit, I suppose,' fingering his smooth fat chin, 'that you are a lady of--what is the stock phrase the reporters use?--considerable personal attractions?' 'My Lord,' I said, turning to the Bench, 'I appeal to you. Has he the right to compel me to answer that question?' [Illustration: THE QUESTION REQUIRES NO ANSWER, HE SAID.] The judge bowed slightly. 'The question requires no answer,' he said, with a quiet emphasis. I burned bright scarlet. 'Well, my lud, I defer to your ruling,' the cross-eyed cross-examiner continued, radiant. 'I go on to another point. When in India, I believe, you stopped for some time as a guest in the house of a native Maharajah.' 'Is that matter relevant?' the judge asked, sharply. 'My lud,' the Q.C. said, in his blandest voice, 'I am striving to suggest to the jury that this lady--the only person who ever beheld this so-called will till Mr. Harold Tillington--described in its terms as "Younger of Gledcliffe," whatever that may be--produced it out of his uncle's desk-- I am striving to suggest that this lady is--my duty to my client compels me to say--an adventuress.' He had uttered the word. I felt my character had not a leg left to stand upon before a British jury. 'I went there with my friend, Miss Petheridge----' I began. 'Oh, Miss Petheridge once more--you hunt in couples?' 'Accompanied and chaperoned by a married lady, the wife of a Major Balmossie, on the Bombay Staff Corps.' 'That was certainly prudent. One ought to be chaperoned. Can you produce the lady?' 'How is it possible?' I cried. 'Mrs. Balmossie is in India.' 'Yes; but the Maharajah, I understand, is in London?' 'That is true,' I answered. 'And he came to meet you on your arrival yesterday.' 'With Lady Georgina Fawley,' I cried, taken off my guard. 'Do you not consider it curious,' he asked, 'that these Higginsons and these Maharajahs should happen to follow you so closely round the world?--should happen to turn up wherever you do?' 'He came to be present at this trial,' I exclaimed. 'And so did you. I believe he met you at Euston last night, and drove you to your hotel in his private carriage.' 'With Lady Georgina Fawley,' I answered, once more. 'And Lady Georgina is on Mr. Tillington's side, I fancy? Ah, yes, I thought so. And Mr. Tillington also called to see you; and likewise Miss Petherick-- I beg your pardon, Petheridge. We must be strictly accurate--where Miss Petheridge is concerned. And, in fact, you had quite a little family party.' 'My friends were glad to see me back again,' I murmured. He sprang a fresh innuendo. 'But Mr. Tillington did not resent your visit to this gallant Maharajah?' 'Certainly not,' I cried, bridling. 'Why should he?'