"Is that all?" asked the magistrate, running up his eyebrows.
"That is all, your Honour."
Shryock spoke up. "If you please, your Honour, Mrs. Bracker would like to testify in her own behalf concerning that needle."
She was put on the stand and sworn. In her neat, close-fitting grey suit and shaped hat she was as smart as paint. Just the same she was a horrible-looking woman with those ghastly starved cheeks, and mouth like a red gash in her powdered face. She sat down, crossed her legs and spread her gloves on her knee with a great pretence of self-possession.
"Do you admit buying the needle at Almon and Emory's?" asked Shryock smoothly.
"Certainly. But that was not the one they found in my pocket."
"One moment! Just confine yourself to answering my questions, please.... For what pur
