"Well, then," said Paul. "Let me say this to you: I think this would convince me that there might be something in religion if my father confessed his wrong, publicly confessed it, mind you, and sought to do right; if he proclaimed his ill-deeds before the world, and did all in his power to rectify the wrong he had done. Then I might believe." "And nothing else would convince you?" said the chaplain. "Nothing else," said Paul. "But who is your father? Where is he?" "Ah," said Paul. "But it's no use thinking of it any more. The whole thing is hopeless, and life is just a great mockery." The chaplain left him with a sad heart. He was a kind man, and sought to do his duty, and Paul had interested him strangely. The court that day was, if possible, more crowded than ever. The morning papers had been filled with reports of the previous day's trial. The wildest of rumours had been afloat. Descriptive articles had been written about the young Member of Parliament who was accused of such a terrible crime. His every word had been commented on. His appearance had been discussed. The evidence given had been the subject of thousands of gossiping tongues. And so the court that day was simply thronged with an intense, eager crowd. Moreover, the inwardness of the trial had seized upon the imaginations of the people. It was more real, more vivid to them than it had been the day before. And when Paul entered the dock, accompanied by two policemen, a great silence fell upon the court, while every eye was fixed upon him. "He looks as hard and proud as ever!" "Yes, there's not much sign of repentance!" "I wonder if the trial will close to-day?" "There's no knowing. I've heard as 'ow several witnesses will be brought into court which was never thought of at the beginning. Will Ashley says as 'ow he saw Paul about half-past five on the morning of the murder not far from Howden Clough. Will says as 'ow there was a look in his eyes like the eyes of a madman." "But Will never appeared before the coroner's inquest?" "No; I suppose he wanted to be kept out of it. But he 'appened to tell his missis, and his missis told it to somebody else, who told it to one of the policemen, and that's 'ow it came about." In another part of the court, not far from the barristers' seats, two ladies discussed Paul. They, too, had been brought there by morbid curiosity aroused by this trial. "Did you know that Judge Bolitho's daughter was here yesterday?" "No. Was she?" "Yes. I watched her face during the trial. It was as pale as death. I wonder how she dared to come." "Why, what do you mean?" "Oh, you know she was engaged to young Wilson." "I've heard that was denied." "Well, anyhow, there's something about it in one of the Brunford papers, and there's no doubt Wilson was in love with her." "Then no wonder she was pale." "Mrs. Jackson told me she saw her smile on the prisoner."