elt sure would be of
service to him. When he had entered upon the trial everything had been
confused; he could not decide upon any method of procedure. But now
things began to take shape. He felt as if he had had some experience,
and that he would not enter upon the fight for his life without some
knowledge of the weapons he had to use.

Presently the news came to him that his re-trial was to come on, and
one morning he was taken from his cell, as in the first instance,
accompanied by two policemen, who led him into the prisoner's dock.

His experiences had left their mark upon him. He was still
scrupulously precise about his dress, and every detail of his person
was attended to as carefully as if he had arranged to make a set speech
in the House of Commons. But no one could help remarking on the change
which had passed over him. He looked thin and haggard; in his eyes was
an expression of weariness; his skin was grey and almost
parchment-like; and, instead of seeming to be without nerves, as on the
previous occasions, his hands trembled as they rested upon the rail in
front of him. But no one could suggest that he asked for pity. There
was still the same proud look upon his face, the same expression of
defiance. He stood perfectly straight and upright, too, and seemed to
regard both judge and jury with a feeling of contempt. In addition to
all this there was something in his square jaw and set teeth which
denoted a grim determination. Here was not a man who was going to
deliver himself over to the butcher without a protest. Everyone felt
that he would fight, and fight to the very last.

Although he had been told that it would be so, he did not realise until
that moment that the trial would have to commence _de novo_. He looked
at the judge with keen interest, and noted the difference between him
and the one who had last sat there. He could not help remembering,
too, what had taken place. The things he had heard had shaken his life
to its very foundation; he who had regarded himself as fatherless had
found his father, and this fact had altered everything. Perhaps, too,
Judge Branscombe, who from his elevation looked at Paul, felt this. In
any case, it was evident he had a keen interest in him. He noted his
every movement, marked his every feature, and formed his impressions
concerning the man who was there for trial.

Judge Branscombe was utterly different from his predecessor. As we
have said, Ju