nteen
Spaniards," he said, in a clear, expressionless voice, looking me full
in the face.

I called out to the old judge, "My Lord... I protest. This is perjury. I
was not the man. It Was Nichols, a Nova Scotian."

Mr. Baron Garrow roared, "Silence," his face suffused with blood.

Old Lord Stowell quavered, "You must respect the procedure...."

"Am I to hear my life sworn away without a word?" I asked.

He drew himself frostily into his robes. "God forbid," he said; "but at
the proper time you can cross-examine, if you think fit."

The Attorney-General smiled at the jury-box and addressed himself to
Sadler, with an air of patience very much tried:

"You swear the prisoner is the man?"

The fair man turned his sharp eyes upon me. I called, "For God's sake,
don't perjure yourself. You are a decent man."

"No, I won't swear," he said slowly. "I think he was. He had his face
blacked then, of course. When I had sight of him at the Thames Court I
thought he was; and seeing the Spanish evidence, I don't see where's the
room...."

"The Spanish evidence is part of the plot," I said.

The Attorney-General snickered. "Go on, Mr. Sadler," he said. "Let's
have the rest of the plot unfolded."

A juryman laughed suddenly, and resumed an abashed sudden silence.
Sadler went on to tell the old story.... I saw it all as he spoke; only
gaunt, shiny-faced, yellow Nichols was chewing and hitching his trousers
in place of my Tomas, with his sanguine oaths and jerked gestures. And
there was Nichol's wanton, aimless ferocity.

"He had two pistols, which he fired twice each, while we were hoisting
the studding-sails by his order, to keep up with the schooner. He fired
twice into the crew. One of the men hit died afterwards...."

Later, another vessel, an American, had appeared in the offing, and the
pirates had gone in chase of her. He finished, and Lord Stowell moved
one of his ancient hands. It was as if a gray lizard had moved on his
desk, a little toward me.

"Now, prisoner," he said.

I drew a deep breath. I thought for a minute that, after all, there was
a little fair play in the game--that I had a decent, fair, blue-eyed
man in front of me. He looked hard at me; I hard at him; it was as if
we were going to wrestle for a belt. The young girl on the bench had her
lips parted and leant forward, her head a little on one side.

I said, "You won't swear I was the man... Nikola el Escoces?"

He looked meditatively into my e