All the quidnuncs were there; all, that is, who could squeeze into the Court. And a society tatler, a professional diner-out, will take as much pains “to be there,” and show himself as resourceful in expedients for getting a good view as will the most enterprising of journalists. And as the magisterial examination dragged on, the sensation hunters had a series of highly enjoyable field days. The publication of the libels having been admitted and justification pleaded, Countess Alexia was called to give a direct denial to the charges insinuated against her. Then came what was expected to be the feature of the case, her cross-examination. The somewhat aggressive methods of that celebrated legal bully, Ambrose Macvee, K.C., failed to elicit any more damaging admission than that she had lost her hair ornament at the ball, and that to the best of her belief the one produced in Court with which it was practically certain Captain Martindale had been stabbed to death was that which had belonged to her. This looked ugly enough, especially when coupled with the admitted fact that she had been alone with Captain Martindale in the little room where he was subsequently found dead. Proof, it is true, was forthcoming that the Countess had left the room a considerable time before the tragedy was discovered: she had danced with more than one partner, and had betrayed no sign of confusion or excitement. “What nerve the woman must have!” was the comment of those who were loth to let go the sustaining belief in her guilt to which they were clinging. It was quite thrilling, and gave a new fillip to the sensation. A Countess stabs her inconvenient lover to death in a secluded corner, then returns to the ball-room and resumes her waltzing as though nothing had happened. What a pity that it was, so far, no more than conjecture. However, merely in the way of suggestion, it furnished stimulating head-lines, somewhat carefully worded, it is true; the penalty of libel and contempt of court being very much in the air just then. There was still, as there always had been, an important link wanting in the chain of evidence which could justify the charges against Countess Alexia, the mystery of that half-hour during which the deceased man had been left alone in that room, for anything to the contrary that mortal eye had seen. Alexia swore that when she left him he was alive, she had had a disagreement with him on a rather painful subject, the reputation of a friend of hers, and had parted with him on bad terms, but she had never raised her hand against him. There had been no reason why she should have done so: when she quitted the room Captain Martindale was as much alive as any one in that Court.