"What do you see?"
"'Thou shalt not kill.'"
Felix Houston leaned back in his chair and putting out his hand, drew the old Bible toward him. Placing it on his knees, he turned the pages with the familiarity of one who knew what was written on every one. At last he held down a page, and ran his fingers across it, smoothing out the crumpled, folded edge. "Listen," he said, raising his eyes to Sargent's for a moment. "There are other commands in here, too. Read here—Genesis—'Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed,' and in Exodus," the pages turned quickly, "'He that smiteth a man, so that he die, shall be surely put to death,' and Leviticus, 'Breach for breach, eye for eye, tooth for tooth,' and later, in the words of Jesus, recorded by Matthew, 'All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword.' Is not that enough?" He laid down the book, and met Sargent's glance again. "You see now there are reasons for man making laws with which the life of a murderer can be taken. It is the command of God. It is His law given to us for self-protection."
Sargent shook his head wearily.
"Vengeance is mine," he quoted slowly, in response. "With that, I see no reason for this law of man's. Why should we judge? Why should we decide that a man has no right to live? 'Thou shalt not kill,' is the word spoken by God. There is no evasion of it—I can see only that one interpretation. It is final to me in its brevity. It embraces everything. If Phelps is hanged, it will be the same as if I had killed him myself, alone and unaided. The law back of it means nothing to me. If he is hanged I will be a murderer."
Sargent crouched back in his chair as if to escape the physical punishment his thoughts inflicted upon him. The disappointment caused from the old man's failure to bring him any comfort intensified the despair into which he had sunk.
"Think a moment, Sargent," Judge Houston said, attempting a new line of persuasion. "Think of the good you have done the people by removing such a danger from them. That should be palliation enough to relieve you of any responsibility. Their gratitude to you is wonderful! Do you know, they want to show it in some lasting form; there is already a movement on foot to send you to the Legislature, and if you accept it, I know you will be elected. Boy! you don't realize that your success has been made. Cheer up! Open your eyes to your opportunities. There are not many who make the start you have." Judge Houston grew more and more enthusiastic as he continued. "I had no idea that you could win that case. I only appointed you to give you the experience. But you have shown your genius. That speech has made your start a triumph."
Sargent watched his enthusiasm coldly. A gulf of misunderstanding seemed to be widening between him and his old friend to-night—a gulf in which their sympathy of the past months was counted as nothing. Of all the people in the world Felix Houston was the one Sargent had expected to understand him in this trial. His disappointment grew almost unbearable when he heard praise also coming from his friend's lips.
"A triumph," he murmured sadly. "What is a triumph when its gain means the sacrifice of a man's life?"
"Have you thought of the lives you have probably saved by removing this dangerous man from the country? That should help you a little."