The day of the trial was near at hand. Sir John Maxton had had two interviews with his client. After the second, he called on her. "I haven't seen you since I met him, have I? Your Sault! What is he, in the name of heaven? He fascinates me, Beryl, fascinates me! Sometimes I wish I had never taken the brief--not because of the hopelessness of it--it _is_ hopeless, you know--but--" "But?" she repeated, when he paused, puzzling to express himself clearly. "He is amazing: I have never met anybody like him. I am not particularly keen on my fellows, perhaps I know them too well and have seen too much of their meannesses, their evilness. But Sault is different. I went to discuss his case and found myself listening to his views on immortality. He says that what we call immortality can be reduced to mathematical formulæ. He limited the infinite to a circle, and convinced me. I felt like a fourth form boy listening to a 'brain' and found myself being respectful! But it wasn't that--it was a sweetness, a clearness--something Christlike. Queer thing to say about a man who has committed two murders, both in cold blood, but it is a fact. Beryl, it is impossible to save him, it is only fair to tell you. I cannot help feeling that if we could get at the character of this man Moropulos, he would have a chance, but he absolutely refuses to talk of Moropulos. 'I did it,' he says, 'what is the use? I shot him deliberately. He was drunk: I was in no danger from him. I shot him because I wanted him to die. When I walked over to where he lay, he was dead. If he had been alive I should have shot him again.' What can one do? If he had been anybody else, I should have retired from the case. "There is a safe in this case, probably you have read about it in the newspapers. It was found in the Greek's house, and is a sort of secret repository. At any rate, it cannot be opened except by somebody who knows the code word. I suspected Sault of being one who could unlock the door and challenged him. He did not deny his knowledge but declined to give me the word. He never lies: if he says he doesn't know, it is not worth while pressing him because he really doesn't know. Beryl, would your father have any knowledge of that safe?" She shook her head. "It is unlikely, but I will ask him. Father says that Ronnie is going to the trial. Is he a witness?" Sir John had, as it happened, seen Ronnie that day and was able to inform her. "Ronnie is writing the story of the trial for a newspaper. What has Sault done to him? He is particularly vicious about him. In a way I can understand the reason if they had ever met. Sault is the very antithesis of Ronnie. They would 'swear', like violently different colors. I asked him if he would care to stay with me--I have had the Kennivens' house placed at my disposal, they are at Monte Carlo--but he declined with alacrity. Why does he hate Sault? He says that he is looking forward to the trial."