ough the judge were convinced of
Paul's innocence, he could only pronounce sentence of death. In that
respect he was no more responsible than the hangman who had to fasten
the rope around his neck. Each would play his part in the grim
tragedy, and each would have to do so, because he had accepted the
responsibilities of his office.

It was evident that the judge was greatly wrought upon. His hands
trembled, his face was haggard, and in his eyes was an expression that
looked like fear. He turned for a moment and saw that the chaplain was
standing behind him, a pale, cadaverous-looking man indeed, a veritable
death's-head.

The judge put on the black cap.

"Paul Stepaside," he said, "you have this day been found guilty of
wilful murder. The jury have, upon the evidence given, passed that
verdict upon you," he stopped. He had seemed on the point of saying
something else, but was unable to do so. Perhaps, as is often the
case, he was going to preach him a homily upon a wasted life, or upon a
career cut off in the middle, destroyed by an act of brutal passion,
but he did not do so. Perhaps there was something in Paul's face which
forbade him. Perhaps he almost feared the scornful smile which was on
Paul's lips, and the steady look in his eyes.

A painful silence followed, a silence of nearly a minute, and then the
judge pronounced his sentence.

"You will be taken from this place to the place from whence you came,
and from there to the place of execution, and there you will be hanged
by the neck until you are dead, and your body will be buried in the
precincts of the prison where you will have been confined after your
conviction, and may the Lord have mercy on your soul."

He spoke the words in slow, measured tones, and with deathly
impressiveness. Although he was a little man, his voice was deep,
almost sonorous, and thus when the chaplain followed him with a thin,
piping voice, "Amen!" there was something so incongruous in the
contrast that many who had been wrought up to a high state of
excitement felt like giving way to hysterical laughter. Nevertheless,
the utmost silence prevailed, until Paul spoke again.

"Thank you, my lord," he said. "I am an innocent man, and when my time
comes, I will meet death as an innocent man should!"

For a moment he looked around the court, scanned the faces of those
present with an expression almost like curiosity. It seemed as if he
realised he was looking at them f