though he'll put on the black cap and condemn him to be
hanged. My word, though, I shouldn't like to be a judge!"

Judge Bolitho was indeed a striking figure as he sat there in his
judicial robes and heavy wig. His features were large and commanding.
His eyes had the look of authority. His mouth was set and stern. He
looked every inch of what he was, a representative of the dignity of
the law, a man set apart to do justice--a cultured, able man, too, with
fine, almost classical features, even although they were somewhat
heavy. Not a cruel man--at least he did not appear so; indeed, he was
well known as one who could tell a good story and pass a timely joke.
A popular man, too, with those of his own order--one who by ability and
worth had risen to his present exalted position.

One of the ushers shouted "Silence" as he sat down; but there was no
need for him to speak. The place was as still as death. Everyone
waited for what should happen next. Then, if possible, the atmosphere
became more than ever charged with the spirit of the day's trial.
Distant footsteps were heard, and then, accompanied on either side by a
policeman, came Paul Stepaside.

Paul had scarcely slept a wink that night; not that he feared the
trial--that seemed to be in the background of his life now. Everything
else was swallowed up in the interview which he had had with Mary
Bolitho. Throughout the long night he had been fighting a great
battle. What should he do? If he were to tell the whole truth----
But he would not think of it. Still, all the old questions recurred to
him again with weary reiteration, the old battle had to be fought and
re-fought. Love for his mother, love for the woman who was to him a
thousand times more than his mother yet in a different way, struggling
for ascendancy. What should he do? What should he do?

The chaplain came to him again that morning--as he had done once or
twice before--to offer him his ministrations, but Paul was still as
hard as adamant. The chaplain was an earnest, good man, narrow in his
faith, but deeply in earnest. He believed in Paul's guilt, and would
have given a great deal to have brought him to a state of repentance.

"If you'd only accept the consolations, the help of religion!" he had
said to him.

"What consolations?" asked Paul.

"Do you not realise the need of pardon?" asked the clergyman. "Do you
not need to feel the atonement made for sin?"

"I only want justice.