Adam Dumphy has been writing stories for sixty years primarily for his own amusement and only secondarily for any other silly, romantic moralist who might run across them.

            His are all cheerful adventures taken from an historical occurrence; a gentle romance with a moral impediment; a leisurely chase in anything from a German tank to an ox cart; and with a happy ending. And you will find a profound respect for the English language, some misspelled words, peculiar punctuation and far too many commas.

            If you do read it, treat it lightly as it is intended. You will feel happier when you put it down than when you picked it up.

She was a tall for a French woman, bone thin, and in any surroundings would have been noticed as striking, elegant. In these surroundings she sparkled like the Kohinoor diamond set on a background of grey and brown burlap. The grey walls and flooring, brown disfigured rails and desks, the somber atmosphere was oppressive. The only answering sparkle in the room were off the badges of the several marshals about the periphery holding back the spectators.

Even in a simple sheath of black with black hose and heels, practically no make up and a single strand of pearls, a huge bouffant hair style her only chic affectation, she still glittered.

Not handsome exactly, her features in repose were regular and pleasing. Her oft remarked beauty was in a spontaneity, a gayety that was not noticable today.

Her attention was totally on the black robed figure behind the high bench at the head of the room.

“Madame Ariadne de Evre, a jury of your peers have found you guilty on two counts of conspiring to the sale or disposal of stolen goods. Inspector Renaud here, has implied that these two are only a trifling few of many such. But still he requests leniency.”

At the name the woman might have stiffened slightly but her glance did not waver.

The high judge continued. “I see no cause for leniency since you refuse still to reveal the name of the man with whom you conspired. I hereby sentence you to not less than two years and not more than five years on each charge to the Woman’s Prison at Entierre.”

At that the woman who had been silent throughout most of the last three day’s proceedings gasped slightly. It was the first time the multitude of observers had noted any emotion.

The judge continued. “The sentence to be begun immediately only if the  Rehabilitation Petition which was presented to me in Chambers this morning is followed to fruition. I doubt that it will. Case dismissed.”

The sentencing had been at 11:15 AM but the woman was not taken back to the holding cell but in the company of a woman Marshal was allowed a luncheon that she could not eat and sat apparently unaware of the passage of time until 4:00 PM when she found herself in a cubby-hole office facing an obese, untidy woman who was, she vaguely understood, her Probation Officer.