“The sheriff looked in amazement in the direction indicated. “‘You are right, sir!’ he said; ‘some one has entered the court-house by breaking open the shutter, and stolen that knife from the clerk’s office, which is never locked.’ “A meaning silence followed the words. It was not difficult to understand it. The jury looked at each other, and in their glances I could read this--‘Mr. Davenant is on trial for his life. He or his friends suborn testimony to prove an alibi on the night of the murder, and not content with that, they hire a burglar to enter the court-house and steal the knife which proves his connection with the deed--that it may not appear in evidence against him.’ “The evidence closed. I had not uttered a word. I had sworn in my heart that I would not stir a finger in the matter--but now, stung beyond endurance, I rose and addressed the jury in impassioned words. ‘Their verdict,’ I told them, ‘was of little importance if I was to lose the respect of my fellow-citizens. I had made no effort to shape their decision, but now on the brink, it might be of a felon’s grave, I would utter my dying words. I would confine myself to protesting before God, and on my honor, that I had long since forgiven George Conway the wrongs done me--that the scene on the day of his murder was the result of momentary irritability, caused by business annoyances, and not malice--that I had forgotten it in an hour--returned directly to my own house--and only heard of the murder on the day after its commission. As to the knife--I had been suspected if not charged with having had the weapon stolen. Well! my answer to that was to declare that, to the best of my knowledge and belief, _the murder was committed with my own knife!_ More than that. A witness had sworn that he saw me turn into the road to my own residence, at such a distance behind George Conway that I could not have rejoined him before he had passed the fatal spot. The witness was mistaken. There was time. _By riding across the angle through the thicket, I could easily have rejoined him_! “‘And now, gentlemen,’ I said, ‘I have done. I have left you no ground to charge me with suborning testimony--with having the evidence of my crime stolen--with plotting in darkness, to hide my crime and blind your eyes in determining my guilt or innocence. That knife was mine, I repeat. It was possible for me to rejoin Mr. Conway, and do him to death by a blow with it. Now, retire, gentlemen! Bring in your verdict! Thank God! no taint of real dishonor will rest upon a Davenant, and I can appear before my Maker as I stand here to-day--innocent!’ “Ten minutes afterward the jury had retired, with every mark of agitation upon their faces. The great concourse of spectators seemed moved almost beyond control.