Harry's heart contracted as if a giant hand had clutched it. His elation fell like a rotten tree girdled at the roots. If Hugh _did not_ die! He chilled as though in a spray of liquid air. Hugh's escape--the chance his conscience had given him, was cut off. He had not betrayed him when the way was open; how could he do so now when flight was barred? If to deliver him then to the hangman would have been cowardice, how much more cowardly now, when it was to save himself, and when the other was helpless? And the law demanded its victim! As a drowning man sees flit before him the panorama of his life, so in this clarifying instant these lurid pictures of the tangle of his past flashed across Harry's mental vision. The judge reached for the newspaper the lawyer held, ran his eye over it, and brought his gavel down with an angry snort. "Take him away," he said. "His testimony is ordered stricken from the records. The fine is remitted, Mr. Felder--we can't make you responsible for lunatics. Bailiff, see that this man has no further chance to disturb these proceedings. The court stands adjourned." CHAPTER XLI FELDER WALKS WITH DOCTOR BRENT Felder had been among the last to leave the court-room. He was discomfited and angry. He had meant to make a telling point for the defense, and the unbalanced imagination of a strolling, bigot gospeller had undone him. His own precipitate and ill-considered action had uncovered an idiotic mare's-nest, to taint his appeal with bathos and open his cause with a farcical anti-climax. He glumly gathered his scattered papers, put with them the leaf of the newspaper from which the district attorney had read, and despatched the lot to his office by a messenger. At the door of the court-house Doctor Brent slipped an arm through his. "Too bad, Tom," he said sympathizingly. "I don't think you quite deserved it." Felder paced a moment without speaking. "I need evidence," he said then, "--anything that may help. I made a mistake. You heard all the testimony?" The other nodded. "What did you think of it?" "What could any one think? I give all credit to your motive, Tom, but it's a pity you're mixed up in it." "Why?" "Because, if there's anything in human evidence, he's a thoroughly worthless reprobate. He lay for Moreau and murdered him in cold blood, and he ought to swing." "The casual view," said the lawyer gloomily. "Just what I should have said myself--if this had happened a month ago." His friend looked at him with an amused expression. "I begin to think he must be a remarkable man!" he said. "Is it possible he has really convinced you that he isn't guilty?" Felder turned upon the doctor squarely. "Yes," he returned bluntly. "He has. Whatever I may have believed when I took this case, I have come to the conclusion--against all my professional instincts, mind you--that he never killed Moreau. I believe he's as innocent as either you or I!"