vidence had been very black against him; knew, too, by
the look on the faces of the twelve jurymen, that even although they
might not be convinced of his guilt, circumstances were leading them in
that direction. All the same, the thought of death was far away. He
could not believe that he, so young and strong and vigorous, full of
physical and intellectual life, would soon cease to be; could not
believe that those twelve commonplace unimaginative-looking men who sat
in the box could condemn him to die. It was so absurd, so foolish.
Then he remembered his little passage of arms with the judge, and he
wondered what Mary Bolitho would say. He did not realise her presence
at the time, but now it all came back to him. His words had been
polite enough, and yet his insinuation had roused a doubt concerning
the judge's impartiality. What would she say? What would she think?
He was sorry now he had spoken. Why could he not have remained silent?
If he had roused doubts, if he had made the jury see how absurd it was
to fancy that he could be guilty of this crime, the sleuthhounds of the
law would set to work to find the real criminal, and that was what he
wanted to avoid. Better bear anything than that the real truth should
come to light.

He remembered his mother's face, too, as she came into the court,
remembered the look of agony in her eyes, remembered the unearthly
scream she had given. What did it mean? His mother was not a weak
woman, she was not given to hysterics, rather she was cold and grim and
hard to all the rest of the world. She was only tender towards him.
What did she mean by coming in such a way? What led her to cry out
with such intense pain? The thought had scarcely passed his mind when
he heard the key of the warder in his door, and a moment later his
mother came into his cell. For some time neither of them spoke. The
woman came towards him slowly, and then, throwing her arms round his
neck, held him close to her for a long time. Paul felt the quiver of
her body, and realised the intensity of her feelings.

"Are you better, mother?" He was able to speak quite calmly by this
time, and was determined that neither by look nor sign would he say
anything of his suspicions concerning her.

But she did not answer him. She still held him close to her, her face
pressed hard against his chest.

"I saw you come into court this morning," he said, as though the matter
were the most casual thing imagi