I quote his answer from the _Petit Parisien_, a paper which has made every effort to try the case in its columns with impartiality, and without political bias. I quote it as a sidelight on the inherent peculiarities of the conduct of a criminal trial in France, quite irrespective of the impropriety of its being published at all. “Do not let us go back to a discussion on this point,” answered the magistrate. “You will make nobody believe that when you went to get your letters back or to obtain a promise that they should not be published you lost all power of speech, and lost your head at the same time, to the extent of saying nothing and using your revolver.” “Madame Caillaux had been in the magistrate’s office for six hours,” says the _Petit Parisien_. “She appeared very tired.” Some weeks before this extract from the examination of Madame Caillaux had appeared _Excelsior_ published (on March 25, 1914) an extract from the letter Madame Caillaux had written to her husband and left with Miss Baxter, her daughter’s English governess, to be given to her husband on the evening of March 16 in case she did not return home before him. In this letter Madame Caillaux is said to have written, in reference to her conversation with her husband that same morning, “you told me that you were going to smash his face. I do not want you to sacrifice yourself. France and the Republic need you. I will do it for you.” The mere fact that such details of the examination of a prisoner by the magistrate appointed to instruct the court which is to try her should be made known in the public Press and should be free for comment weeks before, and even months before the trial of her case in the assize court, calls for no remark. It speaks for itself. A prisoner in France who has been accused of any crime is tried by the public before the trial of the case begins. The jury cannot possibly come into court with impartial minds owing to this system, they cannot listen with open minds to the evidence which is laid before them in the court room, for they have read it all before, they have thought over it, they have discussed it with their families and with their friends, and with the best will in the world they have been unable to help forming an opinion of one kind or another. And there is another vice of French procedure which is well worthy of note. In a sensational case such as the trial of Madame Caillaux, the jury is subjected to direct influence. After it has been empanelled at the beginning of the trial the members of the jury return to their homes every evening. They are therefore, during the actual hearing of the case, liable to outside influence. Even more than this, the names of the twelve jurymen and of the two supplementary jurymen will certainly be published in the French newspapers with details about the men themselves and their professions, before the trial begins, and this of itself forms an abuse which must inevitably