The suggestion fell like a bomb-shell in the midst of the crowd. Even District Attorney Murgatroyd rose to his feet in surprise. "I see no reason," he began, and then remembering that he was not trying the case, he nodded to his assistant; Leech took the cue and pressed to the fore. "This is an important case, your Honour," he contended, "and one that demands deliberation. It seems to me that it would be preferable to defer sentence until--say, Thursday of next week." The Court quickly waved Leech back to his seat and addressed himself to the prisoner. "What does the defendant say? Are you ready for sentence now?" "I am," said Wilkinson, and rising at Morehead's nudge he stood glaring at the Court. Beekman was at his side, and extended his hand, saying: "Before sentence is pronounced, if your Honour please, I should like to say a word or two on behalf of the defendant." The Court likewise waved him back. "I heard all you told the jury," remarked Judge Gilchrist, somewhat sharply. "You exhausted the subject, there's nothing left to say. I have the floor." There was a pause during which the Court slowly took off his glasses, wiped them with his handkerchief and put them on again. "This is an unusual case," he began, looking sternly at the defendant. Back on the benches the crowd leaned forward eagerly. "What will he give him?" asked someone. On the rear seat, Burns of the Ideal Dairy, who never missed a big trial, turned to his friend Porteous, the Park Row hardware man, and remarked: "I'll bet you another fifty, Billy, that he fines him a cold million dollars--that or more." The hardware man only laughed. "Done," he answered. "Judge Gilchrist wouldn't dare to fine him over fifty thousand dollars--and----" "Hush!" whispered Burns. "He's speaking now." " ... confined for ten years in State's Prison at hard labour," concluded the Court. The people looked at one another aghast; but Murgatroyd smiled a smile of complete satisfaction. As for Leslie, she turned a startled, half-reproachful glance at the Assistant District Attorney, and then her face went white and her head sank slowly down upon her arm that lay upon the table. Unconsciously Beekman rested his hand lightly upon her shoulder, and although the court-room seemed whirling about his head, he presently found himself counting the heart throbs that shook her frame. At the table Wilkinson's counsel exchanged glances, only Morehead and Durand apparently retaining their self-possession, and proceeded to gather their papers together, and scoop them into capacious leather bags, shutting the bags loudly with a snap. Wilkinson's face was scarlet, his eyes flashing fire. From the instant of the rendition of the jury's verdict he had been a spluttering volcano of righteous indignation; but now, as he glared at the Court, he was searching in his mind for some torture, some vengeance fitting for a judge who dared....