of guilty upon him, but
naturally it was an _ex-parte_ Statement, it was the speech of a clever
man fighting for his life, who naturally did the best with the material
at his disposal. He had been talking for nearly two hours, and during
that time all were under the spell not only of his words but of his
personality.

When he had finished, the judge waited for perhaps a minute, and seemed
to be looking at his notes, and presently all eyes were transferred
from the prisoner's dock to the judge's chair. What had this keen
legal machine to say? Throughout Paul's speech he had listened with
close attention, and had evidently admired the points he had made. But
as we have said, Judge Branscombe was a lawyer, a lawyer to the finger
tips, and he was one who thought much of outward facts, and little of
what might be probable or not probable. Long associated with the law
as he was, he had known many cases where criminals had done the most
unlikely things, and where facts had scattered theories to the winds.
He had won eminence at the Bar because of this attitude of mind. He
cared nothing about probabilities. He cared little about theories, but
dealt with facts.

He began his summing-up by speaking of the unusual way in which the
trial had been conducted. The prisoner had elected to be his own
advocate, and that, as a consequence, he, the judge, had not been so
particular about formalities as he would have been under different
circumstances. He had allowed matters to be introduced in the
cross-examination which were not strictly evidence. He also referred
in high terms to the prisoner's defence. He spoke of him as a man of
more than ordinary intellectual ability, who, with the gift of an
orator, had played upon the various emotions of the jury as a clever
musician plays with an instrument of which he is a master. And then,
little by little, he went back to what he called "the cold hard facts
of the case." From the pure lawyer's standpoint, his summing-up was
perhaps just, but from the standpoint of the prisoner it was deadly.
With a cleverness of which Paul did not believe anyone capable, he wore
away the effect of what he had said, until, as it seemed to him, his
speech seemed to be like that of another counsel for the prosecution.
And yet, as I said, no one could accuse him of being unfair. He
admitted the responsibility of the jury, spoke of the tremendous Issues
at stake, and seemed desirous of guiding them in