Napoleon Chotas stared at him in amazement. “Mr. Minos, are you telling us that
almost half the people who come to see you decide not to get a divorce?”
“Yes.”
Tiny beads of sweat were popping out on Minos’ forehead. He turned to look at Peter
Demonides, but Demonides was studiously concentrating on a crack in the floor.
“Well, I’m sure it’s not a lack of confidence in your ability,” said Chotas.
“Certainly not,” Minos said defensively. “They very often come to me on a stupid
impulse. A husband or wife will have a fight and feel they hate each other and think they
want a divorce, but when you come right down to it, in most cases they change their
minds.”
He stopped abruptly as he realized the full import of his words.
“Thank you,” Chotas said gently. “You’ve been most helpful.”
Peter Demonides was examining the witness.
“Your name, please?”
“Kasta. Irene Kasta.”
“Miss or Mrs.?”
“Mrs. I’m a widow.”
“What is your occupation, Mrs. Kasta?”
“I’m a housekeeper.”
“Where do you work?”
“For a rich family in Rafina.”
“That’s a village near the sea, is it not? A hundred kilometers north of Athens?”
“Yes.”
“Would you please take a look at the two defendants seated at the table? Have you
ever seen them before?”
“Sure. Lots of times.”
“Would you tell us under what circumstances?”
“They live in the house next to the villa where I work. I seen them on the beach a lot.
They was naked.”
There was a gasp from the spectators and then a quick buzz of conversation. Peter
Demonides glanced over at Chotas to see if he was going to object, but the old lawyer sat
at the table, a dreamy smile on his face. The smile made Demonides more nervous than
ever. He turned back to the witness.
“You are certain that these are the two people you saw? You are under oath, you