Paul paused here, and for a moment seemed to have forgotten his line of defence. He turned towards his notes, which he had placed beside him, as if with the intention of refreshing his memory, and then, like one angered at his seeming unreadiness, he appeared to make a mighty effort to gather together his scattered thoughts and to concentrate them. He gazed around the crowded court, watched the pale, set faces, not only of the jury, but of the spectators, noted the strained attention of the barristers and the steady scrutiny of the judge. He seemed for the moment like a man put upon his mettle and determined to play his part manfully. "I would like," he said, "first of all to refer to the question of motive. The learned counsel has urged that I committed this murder because of personal hatred. The evidence which he sought to deduce, and upon which he dwelt almost to the point of tediousness, was that there was a long-standing feud between the murdered man and myself. He related incident after incident which went to show that, to say the least of it, no love was lost between us. I have no word to say against that evidence, no word to say against his methods of urging it against me. It was his duty as counsel for the prosecution. But I must ask you to examine this more closely. It is true that the murdered man had been my enemy for years. But should I be likely, because of his enmity, to murder him? Or, even if I belonged to the class of criminals which he would make me out to belong to, should I have chosen such an hour to commit that murder? Should I not have committed it, not in my hour of triumph, but in my hour of defeat?