On his accusers' faces John read a stern and determined intention that the law should take its course, not the tortuous, long-drawn old law of pre-war days, but the swift justice which is meted out to traitors.

"You shall have three minutes in which to speak!" Sir Robert's voice smote John's ears.

Manton knew that if he held his peace and the law moved with its inexorable swiftness, he would by to-morrow have expiated the crime of another man. He was in another man's shoes. Innocently, he had taken up that other man's identity.

But he had not shouldered everything, he had not rendered himself liable for that other man's treachery. And yet, at the back of his mind, there was pity, even for Treves. He thought of the man's weakness, of his shattered nerves, of Manners's obvious power over him. Perhaps, even in uttering the . . . Read More