his brogue taking a richer flavour from his environment. "They would
be having the life of the poor man for letting a little of the black
blood out of the black heart of that traitor and blackguard, and may
the divil fly away with him! But we'll bate them yet, and it's yersilf
is the one to do it!" he exclaimed in growing excitement and admiration.

At first Mrs. Fitzpatrick was most reluctant to appear in court.

"Sure, what would I do or say in the face av His 'Anner an' the
joorymin, with niver a word on the tongue av me?"

"And would you let the poor man go to his death?" cried O'Hara,
proceeding to draw a lurid picture of the deadly machinations of
the lawyer for the Crown, Rosenblatt and their associates against
this unfortunate patriot who, for love of his country and for the
honour of his name, had sought to wreak a well-merited vengeance
upon the abject traitor.

Under his vehement eloquence Mrs. Fitzpatrick's Celtic nature
kindled into flame. She would go to the court, and in the face of
Judge and jury and all the rest of them, she would tell them the
kind of man they were about to do to death. Over and over again
O'Hara had her repeat her story, emphasising with adjurations,
oaths and even tears, those passages that his experience told him
would be most effective for his purpose, till he felt sure she
would do full credit to her part.

During the trial the court room was crowded, not only with the
ordinary morbid sensation seekers, but with some of Winnipeg's
most respectable citizens. In one corner of the court room there