ds.

"It's fine, son. Let him have his say out. Don't stop him. Watch how
it works on the old man yonder," for Peter Junior was telling of his
childhood among the people of Leauvite, speaking in a low, clear voice
which carried to all parts of the room.

"Your Honor, and Gentlemen of the Jury, Because I have no witness to
attest to the truth of my claim, I am forced to make this plea, simply
that you may believe me, that the accusation which my father through
his lawyer brings against me could never be possible. You who knew my
cousin, Richard Kildene, how honorable his life and his nature, know
how impossible to him would be the crime of which I, in his name, am
accused. I could not make this claim were I any other than I am--the
son of the man who--does not recognize his son.

"Gentlemen of the Jury, you all knew us as boys together--how we loved
each other and shared our pleasures like brothers--or more than
brothers, for we quarreled less than brothers often do. During all
the deep friendship of our lives, only once were we angry with each
other--only once--and then--blinded by a great passion and swept
beyond all knowledge of our acts, like men drunken we fought--we
struggled against each other. Our friendship was turned to hatred. We
tried--I think my cousin was trying to throw me over the brink of the
bluff--at least he was near doing it. I do not make the plea of
self-defense--for I was not acting in self-defense. I was lame, as
you have heard, and not so strong as he. I could not stand against
his greater strength,--but in my arms and hands I had power,--and
I struck him with my cane. With all my force I struck him, and
he--he--fell--wounded--and I--I--saw the blood gush from the wound I
had made in his temple--with the stick I carried that day--in the
place of my crutch.

"Your Honor and Gentlemen of the Jury, it was my--intent to kill him.
I--I--saw him lying at my feet--and thought I had done so." Here Peter
Junior bowed his head and covered his face with his hands, and a
breathless silence reigned in the court room until he lifted his head
and began again. "It is now three years and more--and during all the
time that has passed--I have seen him lying so--white--dead--and red
with his own blood--that I had shed. You asked me why I have at last
returned, and I reply, because I will no longer bear that sight. It
is the curse of Cain that hangs over a murderer's soul, and follows
wherever he goes. I tell y