certified that they were not with
him now. His advocate whispered him urgently to sit down. He did,
still mystified. The Judge immediately retired to consider his
judgment.

Manvers' advocate left the court and was away for an hour. He returned
very sedately to his place, with the plainly expressed intention of
saying nothing. The court buzzed with talk, much of it directed at the
beautiful prisoner, whose person, bearing, motives, and fate were
freely discussed. Oddly enough, at that moment, half the men in the
hall were ready to protect her.

Manvers felt his heart beating, but could neither think nor speak
coherently. If Manuela were to be condemned to death, what was he to
do? He knew not at all; but the crisis to which his own affairs and
his own life were now brought turned him cold. He dared not look at
Gil Perez. The minutes dragged on----

The Judge entered the court and sat in his chair. He looked very much
like a codfish--with his gaping mouth and foolish eyes. He pulled one
of his long whiskers and inspected the end of it; detected a split
hair, separated it from its happier fellows, shut his eyes, gave a
vicious wrench to it and gasped as it parted. Then he stared at the
assembly before him, as if to catch them laughing, frowned at Manvers,
who sat before him with folded arms; lastly he turned to the prisoner,
who stood up and looked him in the face.

"Manuela," he said, "you stand condemned upon your own confession of
murder in the first degree--murder of a gentleman who had been your
benefactor, of whose life and protection you desired, for reasons of
your own, to be ridded. The court is clear that you are guilty and
cannot give you any assurance that your surrender to justice has
assisted the ministers of justice. Those diligent guardians would have
found you sooner or later, you may be sure. If anyone is to be thanked
it is, perhaps, the foreign gentleman, whose candour"--and here he had
the assurance to make Manvers a bow--"whose candour, I say, has
favourably impressed the court. But, nevertheless, the court, in its
clemency, is willing to allow you the merits of your intention. It is
true that justice would have been done without your confession; but it
may be allowed that you desired to stand well with the laws, after
having violated them in an outrageous manner. It is this desire of
yours which inclines the court to mercy. I shall not inflict the last
penalty upon you, no