d be a
crime, and worse than a crime, to take away the life of a man because
of it. And I shall show you, my lord and gentlemen, that not only is
the chain of evidence incomplete in this case, but that many links are
wanting in that chain, and therefore it has no strength whatever."

Paul paused here, and for a moment seemed to have forgotten his line of
defence. He turned towards his notes, which he had placed beside him,
as if with the intention of refreshing his memory, and then, like one
angered at his seeming unreadiness, he appeared to make a mighty effort
to gather together his scattered thoughts and to concentrate them. He
gazed around the crowded court, watched the pale, set faces, not only
of the jury, but of the spectators, noted the strained attention of the
barristers and the steady scrutiny of the judge. He seemed for the
moment like a man put upon his mettle and determined to play his part
manfully.

"I would like," he said, "first of all to refer to the question of
motive. The learned counsel has urged that I committed this murder
because of personal hatred. The evidence which he sought to deduce,
and upon which he dwelt almost to the point of tediousness, was that
there was a long-standing feud between the murdered man and myself. He
related incident after incident which went to show that, to say the
least of it, no love was lost between us. I have no word to say
against that evidence, no word to say against his methods of urging it
against me. It was his duty as counsel for the prosecution. But I
must ask you to examine this more closely. It is true that the
murdered man had been my enemy for years. But should I be likely,
because of his enmity, to murder him? Or, even if I belonged to the
class of criminals which he would make me out to belong to, should I
have chosen such an hour to commit that murder? Should I not have
committed it, not in my hour of triumph, but in my hour of defeat?

"It has come out in the evidence that at the first election at Brunford
the deceased man did his utmost to ruin me. He not only tried to
tarnish the name of my mother as well as my own, but he did his best to
ruin me financially. This has been proved, proved beyond a doubt; and
as a result of what he did I lost that election. I say, if I had
intended to murder him, would not that have been the time when I should
have done it? Or again, would it not have been likely that I should
have done it while