The minister paused. The massed audience leaned forward, intent and breathless. Now his real defense was beginning. His manner, balanced and impersonal, was carrying conviction with it. The man was the defendant—the prisoner at the bar—yet he spoke deliberately, as if not himself but the truth were at issue. "They were brought there," the witness was saying, "by a man who told me that he had stolen them. He appeared to be excited. Indeed, his condition was pitiable. I advised him to immediately return the diamonds to Miss Dounay, confess his crime to her, and throw himself upon her mercy; but there were circumstances which made it impossible for him to act immediately. That is all." The minister turned from the Court, whom he had been addressing, and faced Searle, as if awaiting cross-examination. The audience had listened with painful interest to the minister’s story. The manner of it had unquestionably carried conviction, but its very unbolstered simplicity had in it something of the shock which provokes doubt. This effect was heightened by its extreme brevity and a suggestion of reticence in the narrative. "Have you concluded?" asked the Court, reflecting the general surprise. "I have," replied the minister, with the same quiet voice in which he had given his testimony. "Begin your cross-examination," instructed Judge Brennan. "Who is the man who brought these diamonds to you?" asked Searle, hurling the question swiftly. "I cannot tell you," answered the minister gravely. "Why can you not tell?" The voice of Searle was harshly insistent. "Don’t you know who the man was?" "I do, most assuredly." "Why can you not tell it?" "Because the secret is not mine." "Not yours?" A sneer appeared on the lips of Searle. "It came to me by way of the Protestant confessional," explained the minister. "The Protestant confessional! What do you mean by that?" barked the prosecutor. "Simply," replied the minister, "that the instinct of confession is very strong in every nature moved to penitence and a hope of reform; so that every minister and priest of whatever faith becomes the repository of a vast number of confessions of fault and failure, some trivial and some grave. I used the term ’Protestant confessional’ because the Roman Catholic Church erects the confessional to a place of established and formal importance. In most other communions it is merely incidental to pastoral experience, but none the less it is a factor in all effort at rehabilitation of character." "And you will not give the name, even to protect yourself?" "It is not," replied the witness, "a matter in which I feel that I have any choice. The confession was not made to me as an individual, but to me as a minister of God. I will hold that confidence sacred and inviolate at whatever cost until the Day of Judgment." Dramatically, though unconsciously, the witness lifted his right hand, as though he renewed an oath to God.