even-eyed, has thrust in between you and the wrath of your fellows
and saved you from it. I do not cry out against the impotency of
the law; it is perhaps as wise as imperfect humanity could make it.
I deplore, rather, the genius of evil men who, by cunning design,
are enabled to slip through the fingers of this law. I have no
word of censure or admonition for you, Victor Ancona. The law of
New York compels me to acquit you. I am only its mouthpiece, with
my individual wishes throttled. I speak only those things which
the law directs I shall speak.

"You are now at liberty to leave this court room, not guiltless of
the crime of murder, perhaps, but at least rid of its punishment.
The eyes of men may see Cain's mark on your brow, but the eyes of
the Law are blind to it."

When the audience fully realized what the judge had said they were
amazed and silent. They knew as well as men could know, that
Victor Ancona was guilty of murder, and yet he was now going out of
the court room free. Could it happen that the law protected only
against the blundering rogue? They had heard always of the boasted
completeness of the law which magistrates from time immemorial had
labored to perfect, and now when the skillful villain sought to
evade it, they saw how weak a thing it was.


V


The wedding march of Lohengrin floated out from the Episcopal
Church of St. Mark, clear and sweet, and perhaps heavy with its