"Maria Delsarto." Her voice was soft, musical, distinct.
"Do you remember that the day before the homicide of Montaro your husband brought home a revolver?"
Candido's head disappeared beneath his arms and his body shook convulsively.
The prisoner raised his eyes and shot a quick, puzzled look at his wife.
"What?" cried the assistant. "You say he had no revolver? Did you not swear that you saw one and sign a paper to that effect?"
Maria looked steadily before her. "I did not understand the paper. I saw no pistol." The words came quietly, positively.
The prosecutor looked helplessly toward the judge and nervously fingered an affidavit.
"You cannot impeach your own witness, Mr. District Attorney," admonished his honor.
The prosecutor turned again to Maria. "Did you not tell Sophia Mantelli that you were weeping because your husband had purchased a revolver with which to kill Beppe?"
"I will allow it," said his honor, "on the ground of refreshing memory. The witness may answer."
"No," answered Maria in the same quiet voice.
The prosecutor threw down the affidavit in disgust. That was what you got for taking the word of one of these Italians! Well, it would be a lesson! No, he had no more questions. Candido began to chatter at his lawyer and fell to nodding and smiling at Maria, who seemed to see him no more than before.
Flynn rose deliberately, cleared his throat, and elevated and stretched his arms as if to secure freer action, exhibiting during the operation a large pair of soiled cuffs.
"Do you know Pietro What's-his-name?" he inquired sharply.
Maria flushed and her head sank toward the child. "Yes," she murmured.
"You have heard him testify that he saw the killing of Montaro?"
Maria's head fell so low that her face could not be seen, and her hand sought the cross upon her bosom.
"Answer the question!" cried Flynn roughly.
"He was with me when we heard the shots below." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "He had been there for an hour. He was not with Ludovico at all. He saw nothing."
An excited chatter flew around the benches. The handsome Pietro sat dumfounded.
Candido started from his chair, his face livid with passion, his eyes glaring. "_Traditrice!_ It is thus you deceive me! It is well that I should die. Faithless betrayer!"