Great as the excitement had been on the previous day's trial, it seemed, if possible, greater now, or rather it was an excitement of a different nature. Hitherto a sense of strangeness and wonder had predominated; a morbid curiosity and a desire for sensationalism had possessed the minds and hearts of those who had witnessed the trial. But to-day another element was added--an element of terror. On the previous days there had been a suggestion of a stage trial. Many, although they had breathlessly followed the evidence given, did not seem to realise that it might end in death. But that was all over now. The inwardness of everything, the ghastly issues of the scene, became tremendously real. All felt that now Paul Stepaside was indeed fighting for his life. The shadow of the scaffold rested upon him. A thousand unseen enemies seemed to be there trying to drag him to his doom. And he, unaided and alone, had to meet not only the terrible charge which was laid against him, but a kind of fiendish cleverness with which that charge had been urged. Men held their breath as he entered the dock; reporters forgot their duty as they watched his face; the jurymen, bearing in mind the terrible speech which Mr. Bakewell had delivered on the previous evening, and believing that nothing could remove the impression of that speech, looked on him with gloomy interest. Even the judge, legal machine as he appeared to be, showed more than ordinary interest and seemed to be wondering what he had to say for himself. To all appearance, indeed, Paul was the most self-possessed man in the court. Pale he was, it is true, but upright, clear-sighted, determined. Unversed as he was in the intricacies of the law and possessing none of the experience which characterised the counsel for the prosecution, Mr. Bakewell felt that here indeed was a foeman worthy of his steel, and that had he been trained for the bar he would not have long remained an obscure member of that learned profession. The formalities of the day were quickly gone through, and Paul rose to address the jury. I cannot here give in detail the speech which he delivered, cannot describe the intensity with which he spoke, although I watched the trial from day to day. I can only convey a vague impression, not only of the speech which he delivered, but of the effect of his words. Even now I can see him standing in the dock, quietly arranging his papers with firm, steady hands, and then pushing them away as if they could be of no use to him. I can see the steady light in his eyes; the pale, clear-cut face; strong, determined features, upright form. I can feel, too, the tremendous emotion which seemed to overwhelm all present. But these things cannot be conveyed in cold print; they can only be hinted at.