Hezekiah silenced the mill owner with a gesture of great dignity. "Never interrupt counsel in the midst of argument," he protested, absently. "Undoubtedly you will be afforded ample time to present your own views." He paused, blinking nervously. The interruption had disturbed his train of thought, but in a moment he continued. "At stated periods, prudent merchants take trial balances and invoices that they may know the condition of their business. It is likewise well for men at times to take account of their relations with their associates. It is my purpose to do that now, Obadiah Dale." In Hezekiah's eyes was a far away look now. "It's nearly thirty years since I entered your employ--thirty years, Obadiah, the cream of my life. Its period of highest power I have given to you. My life must be judged by my accomplishments for you. You and I alone know what part my judgment has had in the development of your great business. As a young man, I liked you, Obadiah. I admired your energy and perseverance and that combativeness which made you give battle in open competition for new fields of commercial activity. Success came to you in a measure permitted to but few, and the tremendous power of wealth accompanied it. Thoughts come to me of your wife, that fair rose of the Southland, who not only brought sunshine into your own house but spread it among all those who were privileged to know her. In her you were a twice blessed man. A daughter was born to you, the image of her mother, and so were you thrice blessed." Hezekiah's face became stern. "I have tried to judge you fairly at the bar of my heart, Obadiah. Old friendship has pleaded for you. Unhappiness over the loss of your wife may have swayed you. Yet, something tells me that you were always the man that you have been of late, concealing the evil in you that you might the better court success. At any rate, there has been a gradual outward change in you until here and now"--Hezekiah was very grave--"I impeach you before the high court of my heart for divers crimes and offenses, treasonable in their nature, against the good will and happiness of your fellowmen." The prisoner at the bar gave a start, possibly remembering that the historical punishment for treason was the headsman's axe.