is intellectual and spiritual whereabouts. They broke the hard
crust of his nature. They appealed to him in a way which he thought
impossible, and he wondered with a great wonder.

Everything was bewildering, staggering! Where was his mother? he
wondered, and, more than all, where was Mary? The thought of the
relationship between them almost drove him mad. He could not bear to
think that he and Mary were children of the same father. It outraged
something in his heart and mocked the dreams which he still dared to
dream. Somehow, the battle for his own life which he had determined to
fight more passionately than ever had sunk in the background now. It
was not the only issue at stake. Other forces were liberated, other
interests overwhelmed him.

Still, as he sat there, brooding and planning and dreaming, one thing
became clear to his mind and heart--he would not die! He would not
betray his mother, but he would fight for his own life. He was a
prisoner, and he had refused, and would still refuse, to engage counsel
to defend him or lawyers to gather evidence. He knew too well the
danger of that. No, no, whatever happened to him, no breath of
suspicion should fall upon his mother; but he would fight for his own
life step by step, inch by inch. He would tear the circumstantial
evidence to pieces. He would convince the jury that it was impossible
to condemn him. Whatever else must be done, that must be done--he owed
it to Mary.

Directly he thought of her his heart grew warm and tender. She
believed in him. She had declared her faith in his innocence in spite
of circumstantial evidence. She had laughed at it; she would laugh at
it; and he would prove himself worthy of her faith. That at length
became the dominant thought in his mind, the great motive power of his
life.

Outside, the city of Manchester was stirred to its depths. Like
lightning the news had passed from one lip to another of what had taken
place that morning, while the reporters rushed to their various offices
to transcribe their notes and to prepare copy for the papers. In an
almost incredibly quick time the evening newspapers appeared. Newsboys
were rushing through the streets shouting excitedly, and there was a
mad scramble among the people to buy. The printing presses could not
turn them out fast enough; the machinery was insufficient to meet the
demands of the excited crowd. "Great murder trial!" shouted the boys.
"Wonderful re