d Granton, as Von Lebenstein, as Medhurst,
as Schleiermacher, they must find him guilty.

As to that point, also, the judge commented on the obvious strength
of the police case, and the fact that the prisoner had not attempted
in any one out of so many instances to prove an alibi. Surely, if
he were _not_ Colonel Clay, the jury should ask themselves, must it
not have been simple and easy for him to do so? Finally, the judge
summed up all the elements of doubt in the identification--and all
the elements of probability; and left it to the jury to draw their
own conclusions.

They retired at the end to consider their verdict. While they were
absent every eye in court was fixed on the prisoner. But Paul
Finglemore himself looked steadily towards the further end of the
hall, where two pale-faced women sat together, with handkerchiefs
in their hands, and eyes red with weeping.

Only then, as he stood there, awaiting the verdict, with a fixed
white face, prepared for everything, did I begin to realise with
what courage and pluck that one lone man had sustained so long an
unequal contest against wealth, authority, and all the Governments
of Europe, aided but by his own skill and two feeble women! Only
then did I feel he had played his reckless game through all those
years with _this_ ever before him! I found it hard to picture.

The jury filed slowly back. There was dead silence in court as the
clerk put the question, "Do you find the prisoner at the bar guilty
or not guilty?"

"We find him guilty."

"On all the counts?"

"On all the counts of the indictment."

The women at the back burst into tears, unanimously.

Mr. Justice Rhadamanth addressed the prisoner. "Have you anything
to urge," he asked in a very stern tone, "in mitigation of whatever
sentence the Court may see fit to pass upon you?"

"Nothing," the prisoner answered, just faltering slightly. "I have
brought it upon myself--but--I have protected the lives of those
nearest and dearest to me. I have fought hard for my own hand. I
admit my crime, and will face my punishment. I only regret that,
since we were both of us rogues--myself and the prosecutor--the
lesser rogue should have stood here in the dock, and the greater in
the witness-box. Our country takes care to decorate each according
to his deserts--to him, the Grand Cross of St. Michael and St.
George; to me, the Broad Arrow!"

The judge gazed at him severely. "Paul Finglemore," he said, passing
s