"Now, Sir Christopher, will you tell the court something we are most urgent to know,--did you, or did you not, return from that search agitated and distraught in bearing, with garments torn and stained with blood?" "I did." There was an ominous pause, during which one could well nigh count heart-beats. "Christopher Neville, do you know this knife?" "Yea; 'tis mine own." "Ay, and found in the folds of the priest's garments, and fitting with fatal exactness the wound in the breast. Now, one more question: when you came in that night did you, or did you not, crave blessing and absolution from Father White?" "No--not absolution!" "A mere quibble! You confessed to him that you had sinned, and you begged his blessing. Not one of these points do you deny; and, indeed, denial were worse than useless, for, as you well know, I have witnesses enough at hand to prove them all. The explanations in your written statement, which lies before me and which I have examined, your silly tales of the wild animal, the brush and briar, do credit neither to your mind nor your conscience. Rather I beg of you while there is yet time make a clean breast of it here before God, before me, and before this assembled household of St. Gabriel's." Here Brent's voice took a tone almost of pleading, strangely at variance with his magisterial manner at the beginning. "We all know," he went on, "that the priest had the cause of the Church so much at heart that he might have been tempted to use words to a heretic hard for hot blood to brook. Tell us all that happened, and there may be circumstances making for leniency if not for justification." "I did not kill the priest." The dulness of the speaker's tone might be the result of the reaction from strong excitement, or the apathy of guilt. It angered Brent. "Neville, I would like to stand your friend; but the Governor of the Palatinate of Maryland declines to be a compounder of felony. I ask once more, have you any confession to make?" "None." "Gentlemen, are you ready for the test?" Councillor Neale and Cornwaleys bowed assent. "Mistress Brent, do you, as lady of the manor, approve the aforesaid test that Christopher Neville be commanded to lay his hand upon the breast of Father Mohl yonder and take oath before God that he knoweth naught of how the dead man came by his death?" "I approve it," said Mary Brent, rising in her place, "and I do command all those here present to draw near the bier and keep watch upon the face of the dead while the oath proceeds." Slowly and solemnly the assembled household drew together in a circle about the corpse. Neville placed his right hand upon the breast of the dead man. For an instant he stood silent so, then raising the hand to heaven he said slowly, calmly, distinctly: "I swear to God I am innocent of this man's death, and I know naught touching it."