The Governor was silent a moment; then his hand reached for the pen on the table. "On the admission, then," he said slowly, "it is my duty to request the authorities to take you into custody. You are aware of your rights under the law?" The striped figure bowed. "I am. I shall waive extradition. With your permission, however, I should like to make a statement." "He can make that in the jail," interposed Craig contemptuously. "Take off his mask and send for the police." The Governor frowned. "He can make it here and now, if he so chooses. This is not your house, Mr. Craig. If you do not care to listen, there will be no objection to your withdrawal--with your witness." There was a fleeting pause, in which a livid red mounted to Craig's brow, dark against the bandage. Then the Governor turned. "Do you take your solemn oath that what you are about to say is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?" "I do." The Governor leaned back in his chair. "You may make your statement," he said quietly. Harry bowed. He was feeling a chill sense of estrangement, as though the bars that were so soon to shut him from the life of which he had been a part had already fallen between him and his friends. But he was oddly self-controlled. In the few moments he had been thinking swiftly--not of himself, but of the cause he represented, the men who had pinned their faith upon him and whom he had betrayed, whose leader, Judge Allen, sat there now ignorant of the ruin that overwhelmed them. To say to him, "I, Harry Sevier, whom you honoured, whom you made the bearer of your party banner, reached forth for this trust knowing myself a hunted man, outlawed of honest folk!" They were his friends, his loyal comrades in the fight, men whose friendship had been tried out by long years! In this last hour he shrank from a judgment biased with sympathy, and a fierce craving was rising in him for a justification based on no personal appeal. He took a step backward to the mantel and stood thus, a little removed from them, looking from one to the other. He spoke in a low voice--not the alert, vibrant voice of the old Harry Sevier, but one alien, metallic, and strangely devoid of feeling.