His hands trembled so much that they were of no use to him.

In a chilling voice he kept repeating: "It is horrible, horrible!" "Finally," pursued the inexorable magistrate, "here are the trousers you wore on the evening of the murder.

It is plain that not long ago they were very wet; and, besides the mud on them, there are traces of earth.
Besides that they are torn at the knees.

We will admit, for the moment that you might not remember where you went on that evening; but who would believe that you do not know when you tore your trousers and how you frayed your gloves ?" What courage could resist such assaults?
Albert's firmness and energy were at an end.

His brain whirled.