ce of the servants; of his going upstairs
to the landing outside the servants' quarters at midnight; of his going
out into the night alone; of his return early in the morning, pale and
haggard; then, as the crowning evidence of all, the knife, which was
known to be Paul's, which had been lying in his office--an office which
was always locked when the owner of it was not present--the sharp,
murderous weapon was found in the body of the murdered man, struck from
behind.

All these things Mr. Bakewell described, and spoke with telling
emphasis on the main features of the case. Possibly he knew the
character of the judge to whom he addressed himself, and he had so
arranged his speech that the chain of evidence was apparently complete.
When he sat down a great pent-up sigh arose, not only from the jurymen,
but from the excited spectators. Although during the early part of
what he had said the emotion was not so great as during the first
trial, yet, as he summed up the case for the prosecution, fastened one
link to another of the chain of events, and declared in solemn tones
that the witnesses he had to call would prove everything he had said to
the minutest detail, it seemed as though they expected the judge to put
on the black cap and to utter the terrible words which have to be
uttered on every condemned prisoner.

Paul, however, was not greatly moved by Mr. Bakewell's speech. He
listened keenly, attentively, to all he had to say, made a note, and
that was all.

It is not my purpose to follow the trial step by step. Those who care
to do so can turn up the files of the Manchester papers, where they can
find it in every detail; but in this history I do not purpose dwelling
at length upon the many examinations that were made and on the
voluminous evidence given. As far as Paul was concerned, he did not
endeavour to cross-examine many of the witnesses. As far as he could
see, their evidence was in the main true. They had given a statement
of facts, and he felt that it would be utter waste of time to deal with
details which might show discrepancies, but which were, as far as he
could judge, of but little importance. He wanted to fasten upon the
main features of the case, and then, without in the slightest degree
hinting at anything which would connect his mother with the murder of
Ned Wilson, to prove how utterly improbable, if not impossible, it was,
that he should be guilty of the deed of which he was accused.

S