an hour like this."

Judge Maxwell's face was losing its redness of wrath; the hard lines
were melting out of it. He pondered a moment, looking with gathered
brows at Joe. The little deputy had given over his struggle, and now
stood with one hand twisted in the back of Joe's coat. The sheriff kept
his hold on Mrs. Newbolt's arm. She lifted her contrite face to the
judge, tears in her eyes.

"Very well," said the judge, "the court will accept your apology, and
hold you responsible for her future behavior. Madam, resume your seat,
and do not interrupt the prosecuting attorney again."

Mrs. Newbolt justified Joe's plea by sitting quietly while the
prosecutor continued. But her interruption had acted like an explosion
in the train of his ideas; he was so much disconcerted by it that he
finished rather tamely, reserving his force, as people understood, for
his closing speech.

Hammer rose in consequence, and plunged into the effort of his life. He
painted the character of Isom Chase in horrible guise; he pointed out
his narrowness, his wickedness, his cruelty, his quickness to lift his
hand. He wept and he sobbed, and splashed tears all around him.

It was one of the most satisfying pieces of public oratory ever heard in
Shelbyville, from the standpoint of sentiment, and the view of the
unschooled. But as a legal and logical argument it was as foolish and
futile as Hammer's own fat tears. He kept it up for an hour, and he
might have gone on for another if his tears had not given out. Without
tears, Hammer's eloquence dwindled and his oratory dried.

Mrs. Newbolt blessed him in her heart, and the irresponsible and
vacillating public wiped its cheeks clean of its tears and settled down
to have its emotions warped the other way. Everybody said that Hammer
had done well. He had made a fine effort, it showed what they had
contended for all along, that Hammer had it naturally in him, and was
bound to land in congress yet.

When the prosecutor resumed for the last word he seemed to be in a
vicious temper. He seemed to be prompted by motives of revenge, rather
than justice. If he had been a near relative of the deceased, under the
obligation of exacting life for life with his own hands, he could not
have shown more vindictive personal resentment against the accused. He
reverted to Joe's reservation in his testimony.

"There is no question in my mind, gentlemen of the jury," said he, "that
the silence behind which this defen