The Prophet then brought forward a number of witnesses to prove unauthorised deeds of violence and of blood against Zero and his band, all being without exception classed in the one dreadful category, and the testimony of one of these not only proved the slaver-chief to have been guilty of countless murders in Africa, but deposed that, in the speaker’s own un-regenerate days, he had himself been an eye-witness of the shooting of Mr Harmsworth in New York—this diabolical and cold-blooded murder having, as Kenyon had opined, been committed by the hand of Zero, in revenge for what he considered to be a personal slight.
The aged Prophet then consulted briefly with the two elders who were his co-representatives in Africa of the Mormon Trinity, and, once again rising to his feet, briefly and clearly pronounced sentence of death.
The whole of the renegade band would die by the rifle at sundown that very night, and their carcases would be thrown to the wild beasts of prey, whilst Zero himself would be crucified at noon on the following day, and his body would be left to the vultures and the crows.
The sentence was evidently what all had foreseen; for, with the exception of a very few despairing shrieks from the women, there was neither voice nor sound.
The old Mormon concluded his harangue by saying that the women and children would be conveyed by his men to the nearest seaport town, and their passage paid to any civilised country they desired to reach, after which the Brotherhood of the Saints entirely washed their hands of them. For a brief instant one could have heard a pin drop, then from the poor creatures at the bottom of that living square there went up one mighty gasp of intense relief, followed by a babel of blessings upon their ancient judge, from which it was quite clear that the poor wretches, who were, most of them, more sinned against than sinning, had fully expected to find themselves and their little ones devoted to the same red grave as their wicked lords and masters.
As the old Prophet ceased speaking, Kenyon suddenly started to his feet, holding up his hand to attract the attention of the judges, and when silence again reigned supreme, and when every eye in that vast assemblage was curiously fixed upon him, quietly but clearly, he spoke out.
“Sir,” he said, “I know, and fully admit, your powers of judgment here, by the right of might; but you also are an American, as I am, and I, therefore, ask that, in courtesy to the Stars and Stripes, you will even yield to my prior claim upon the body of this scoundrel, Zero, and allow the executioner of the States, to end his sinful life.”
“Who art thou, and whence knowest thou me?” queried the astonished Mormon.
“I, sir,” was the cool reply, “am Stanforth Kenyon, of the New York Detective Force, and I have followed this fellow hither from the New World, just as you have done, and, having been the first to find him, I, therefore, think my claim the best, and my case, the Harmsworth murder, on American ground, being now indubitably proved by your own witness, this Zero can no longer now escape the law.”
“By repute, I know you well, Detective Kenyon,” came the answer, “but Uncle Sam, for once, goes empty-handed. The Elect, as you very well know, recognise no law outside themselves, and allow no interference with their affairs, on the part of the unbelieving and accursed Gentiles. Nay,” as Kenyon attempted to speak again, “I cannot hear you further. I sit here, with my colleagues, as the representatives of the heaven-taught Holy Three, and what I have said I have said.”