Look, sir," said Paul. "What is the practical
result of religion? Does it make men do justice and love
righteousness? I will tell you something. There was once a man who
betrayed a woman. He was a religious man. He partook of the
sacraments. But all his religion did not keep him from forsaking the
woman he betrayed and allowing her to spend her life in disgrace and
misery. If religion could cause that man to come forward, confess his
wrong, and atone for his guilt by doing justice to her, perhaps I could
believe. But all these little theories of yours are so many parrot
cries."

It was in this state of mind that Paul was led from his cell to the
dock. He was still wearing his own clothes, for although he was an
accused man, he was not yet proved to be guilty; and with that innate
pride and that care for personal appearance which was natural to him,
he had carefully dressed himself. His garments were well cut, and
fitted his figure perfectly. His linen was spotless, and he stood
upright, with a proud look on his face.

There was a kind of gasp when he entered the dock. He was not the kind
of man whom many had expected to see. Tall, erect, muscular, pale
cheeks, clear-cut features, well-shaped head, dark flashing eyes,
sensitive lips and nostrils, he was a direct contrast to those who are
usually associated with the crime of which he was accused. Even the
judge, who looked at him with keen, penetrating eyes, could not help
being impressed by the fact. He was a man capable of controlling other
men, a man who could deal with large affairs. Passionate, perhaps, and
vengeful, but not likely to wreak his passion like a brute.

"Handsome, isn't he?" said one lady to another. "I'd no idea!"

"Yes, terrible pity, isn't it? But still, I suppose he's had a grudge
against Mr. Wilson for years. He belongs to the working classes, too,
although by his cleverness he's risen above them. But it's always the
same, my dear--common people are common people."

Paul looked steadily round the court. His eyes did not rest long on
the judge, although he gave him a keen, searching glance. Even then he
felt that the circumstances were far out of the ordinary. Only the
previous evening this man's daughter had confessed her love to him.
She had defied all conventions, defied the possibility of malign
gossip, but of course Judge Bolitho did not know that. They met there
as judge and accused, and such were the relations t