Then followed a tilt between counsel on the admission of testimony from Dr. Cheyney as to the character of the defendant. Colonel Coad resisted, fighting point by point. Judge Hollis was determined and vindictive; he even lost his temper and quarreled with the Commonwealth attorney, and would, doubtless, have become profane if the court had not intervened and sustained him. In that moment the old lawyer triumphed openly, his eyes flashing, his face nearly purple with excitement. But the tilt was not over when the doctor was put on the stand. It became evident, in a moment, that Judge Hollis was bent on the story of Jean Bartlett, and Colonel Coad got to his feet and objected. Again silence reigned in the court-room, and they heard the tree of heaven creak under its weight of human fruit. Inch by inch Colonel Coad fought and Judge Hollis won. Testimony had been admitted to damage the character of the prisoner; he was offering this in sur-rebuttal. It was half-past six when Colonel Coad gave up and the old judge put on his spectacles and stared into the spectacled eyes of the old doctor. The two eager, lined old faces were as wonderful in their shrewd watchfulness as two faces from the brush of Rembrandt. The dingy, green-shaded lights flickered on them, and the suppressed excitement of the room thrilled about them, until the very atmosphere seemed charged. “You have heard the prisoner charged with the ruin of Jean Bartlett, Dr. Cheyney?” asked the judge. “I have, sir.” “You knew Jean Bartlett before and after the birth of her child; what was her mental condition at those times?” “Before the birth of her child she was sane; afterwards she was ill a long time and never fully recovered from the fever and delirium.” “Did she make any statement to you before the birth of the child?” Colonel Coad objected; Judge Hollis said that he intended to show that the prisoner was not the father of the child. Objection not sustained. The judge looked sideways at Colonel Coad and coughed; the colonel sat down. The judge repeated his question. “She did,” said Dr. Cheyney slowly, leaning a little forward and looking intently at the old lawyer. A breathless pause ensued. “Please state to the court the condition and nature of that statement.” Judge Hollis’ tone was dry, rasping, unemotional. Dr. Cheyney took off his spectacles, wiped them and put them in his pocket. “She was of sound mind and she stated her case to me, and I made her repeat it and write it down, because”--the old doctor’s face twisted a little into a whimsical grimace,--“I thought likely the child might be handed around considerable.” A titter ran through the room. Judge Ladd rapped for order. Dr. Cheyney unfolded a slip of paper and smoothed it out. “If it please the court,” he said quietly, “I have been very reluctant to produce this evidence.” Colonel Coad rose. “Does it incriminate any person, or persons, not on trial before this court?” he asked. “It does.”