Somebody cried for a speech. Oakes hesitated and again tried to retreat, but at that moment all eyes were turned suddenly to a wagon coming down the side street and accompanied by a small crowd. It turned into the Square and a hush fell over all, for there in the vehicle was Maloney--the murderer, and an old gray-haired man--Skinner. The murderer of Mr. Mark was handcuffed, and sat heavily guarded; but the old man was not a prisoner--his head was bowed in silent grief, as he sat by Maloney's side. It was evident to all that the prisoner was being removed from headquarters to the court-house for trial, and that the father was bearing his burden before the world. Quintus Oakes gave a glance of pity at the prisoner, and an extremely sorrowful expression crossed his strong, handsome face as he recognized the old man by Maloney's side. The populace, recovering from its surprise at sight of the wagon, changed its mood, and surrounded it with angry demonstrations, hissing and threatening. The face of the prisoner was calm, proud, defiant--the face of a man in triumphal entry. He was unconscious of his awful position, his awful crimes. He saw only the notoriety. Dr. Moore turned to me. "See Maloney--see his face; he thinks himself a hero--he is too insane to appreciate the truth." But Skinner looked out upon the crowd and paled; then glancing up, he caught the eyes of Quintus Oakes, and with a harrowing, beseeching expression, bent his gray head into his hands. The populace in fury tried to stop the wagon; but now, at this instant, Oakes rose to the occasion, and the _man_ showed the mettle and the humanity that was in him. Rising to his full height, he spoke: "Stop! This is no time to hiss. Remember, the murderer is irresponsible; the other is his father--an _old, old man_!" As Quintus's voice rang out in its clear, strong notes, with a marvelously tender accent, and as the full meaning of his words became apparent, a sudden silence seized the crowd--a silence intense, uneasy, sympathetic. Quintus Oakes was single-handed, alone, but the master mind, the controlling man among us all. The silence deepened as men glanced about with ill-concealed emotion--deep, suppressed. The wagon moved on, and the stillness was broken only by the crunching of the wheels and the occasional sighing, heavy breathing of the populace. Over all was the suspense, the quick, awe-inspiring change from vicious hatred to pity and grief, blended instantly in the hearts of all by that strong, vigorous, quick-minded man of action and of justice--OAKES. Taking advantage of the lull, Quintus stepped into the crowd, and before any could foresee his purpose, he threw his coat over the pommel of a saddled horse just being led around the corner--his horse--and springing lightly, gracefully to the saddle took the reins.