By this time Paul was almost careless as to results. He felt perfectly sure that the punishment meted out to him would not be a light one; but he did not care. He was past that. His mind and heart were filled with rage against the man who had blackened his name. He fell to studying him while he waited, and again he was fascinated. While he had addressed the jury his eyes had shone with apparently righteous indignation; he was eager, almost passionate, in his denunciation of crime. But now it might seem as though his interest in the matter had gone. He chatted and laughed with the other barristers, and accepted their congratulations upon his speech. As Paul listened, too, he heard him accept an invitation to go with one of them to dinner that night, and afterwards accompany them to a place of amusement. And this was the man who had so ruthlessly, so cruelly, and so untruthfully defamed his own character. Presently the jurymen returned, and the court awaited their verdict. A little later Paul knew that the others were committed to one month's imprisonment, while he himself was condemned to six months' hard labour. The young man's face never moved a muscle. He stood perfectly rigid, perfectly silent, as the judge pronounced the sentence, and then, when all was over, he turned towards the barristers' table, and his eyes met those of the man who, he knew, was practically responsible for the extreme punishment meted out to him. Mr. Bolitho smiled, and then, turning, left the court, while a policeman laid hold of Paul's arm and led him away to his cell. CHAPTER IV PAUL MEETS MARY BOLITHO There is no need to describe at length Paul's experiences during the time he was imprisoned in Strangeways Gaol. The moral effect of prison life is rather harmful than good. In Paul Stepaside's case, at all events, it was so. He knew his punishment was unjust, he knew he was guiltless of the crime which had been attributed to him; knew, too, that for some purpose which he could not understand a case was made out against him which had no foundation in fact. These things alone would have had a tendency to embitter his heart and to make him rail at the so-called justice of the land. But when we add to this the fact that he was of a proud, sensitive nature, that he shrank from the unenviable notoriety to which he had been exposed, and that he writhed under the things that had been said about him, it can be easily seen that his whole nature rose up in revolt. Everything in the gaol aroused his antagonism, and made him bitter and revengeful. The daily routine, the constant surveillance of the warders, the thousand indignities to which he was subjected, made him, even while he said nothing, grind his teeth with passion and swear to be revenged in his own time.