She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. It was a bogus affair altogether, kept by some blackguard or other of an Englishman. “It is possible,” Courtlaw said, “that you too were deceived. The morning of Monday the 16th of November 1724 at length dawned. She laughed altogether in her old manner. Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger.
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