He began speaking again, telling of the family of the man who had been murdered, dwelling with a deep sympathy upon the young, fatherless children, who had to take up the burden of life without the guidance of their parent. Then, almost in a whisper, and with deep reverence, he spoke of the bereaved wife, a widow and a mother, a feeble woman, no longer young, left alone to care for the children, separated from her life partner and left to finish her days unprotected. He drew a telling picture of his own mother, of every man's mother, in a like situation.
There were tears in the eyes of the audience as they listened, there were tears in the eyes of the lawyer, and suddenly, as his words ended in a faint whisper, the blood-shot eyes of the prisoner shifted uneasily and were hidden for a moment by the falling lids.
A quiver passed over Sargent's slender figure. He lowered his right hand from the position of defence, and placing it beside the other, rested heavily against the table. A sensation of utter weariness crept over him. He could not recall having felt so exhausted ever before. It was the first time that he had used the full force of his magnetism, of which until that day he had been in ignorance. For a second, overcome by the new fatigue, he wondered if his power would last. The first signal of the confession was held in the drooping lids of the prisoner. Could he bring the rest?
Once more he took up the thread of his speech. Phelps met his gaze no longer, even the crouching position of one ready to spring relaxed, and he sank back into his chair and gazed steadily at his hands. Sargent leaned forward in his intensity, his words coming more rapidly. He was now dwelling on the laws of his country, on the need of these laws, of the rights of man which must be recognized and obeyed, of the Christianity of civilization, and of the punishment of God. His voice grew steadily louder as he urged the murderer to repent before he should reach the great tribunal of God, where repentance would be too late.
Still he could gain no answer from the man's downcast eyes. Within him a voice grew louder and more insistent. He felt the words leaving him in a stream of compelling force. Louder and louder, in the dead silence of the room they grew into thunderbolts that seemed to shake the building. On and on he went, a great light glowing from the depths of his eyes, until by the compelling force of his invectives, the irresistible power of his magnetism, the prisoner sprang from his chair and faced him.
For an instant they stood with only the table separating them, the accused man towering above the lawyer in a spasm of rage. Then, sweeping over his coarsened features came an expression of utter despair and misery, his eyes grew lustreless and dead, and drawing from his shirt a concealed dirk, he threw it from him and lowered his face upon his outstretched hands.
No word was spoken, but so completely did the agony of the man's face express his confession, that a shiver ran over the audience.
In the silence which followed Sargent stood with folded arms, amid the naked passions of the courtroom. A few minutes later, when he realized that they were still waiting for him to speak, he turned towards the jury and said slowly:
"Gentlemen, there is the murderer. Do with him as your conscience tells you."
He thought it was several hours afterwards, when in fact it was only ten minutes, that he became aware of his surroundings. He had sunk on the bench after addressing the jury, and before him had begun to swim all the fancies employed in his speech, and in a futile attempt to gather and separate them, as he had done before, he found himself tumbling from a great height, which his fast ebbing vital force made irresistible.