these men and they did
not believe him? About little Vito who was lost, and his wife who cried
her eyes out because of the Black Hand letters. He--

There was a step behind him, and a voice he knew spoke. It was the voice
of Ammella, his neighbor, with whom he used to be friends
before--before that day.

[Illustration: "PLEASE, YOUR HONOR, LET THIS MAN GO! IT IS CHRISTMAS."]

"Please, your Honor, let this man go! It is Christmas, and we should have
no unkind thoughts. I have none against Filippo here, and I ask you to let
him go."

It grew very still in the court-room as he spoke and paused for an answer.
Lawyers looked up from their briefs in astonishment. The jurymen in the
box leaned forward and regarded the convicted man and his victim with rapt
attention. Such a plea had not been heard in that place before. Portoghese
stood mute; the voice sounded strange and far away to him. He felt a hand
upon his shoulder that was the hand of a friend, and shifted his feet
uncertainly, but made no response. The gray-haired judge regarded the two
gravely but kindly.

"Your wish comes from a kind heart," he said. "But this man has been
convicted. The law must be obeyed. There is nothing in it that allows us
to let a guilty man go free."

The jurymen whispered together and one of them arose.

"Your Honor," he said, "a higher law than any made by man came into the
world at Christmas--that we love one another. These men would obey it.
Will you not let them? The jury pray as one man that you let mercy go
before justice on this Holy Eve."

A smile lit up Judge O'Sullivan's face. "Filippo Portoghese," he said,
"you are a very fortunate man. The law bids me send you to prison for ten
years, and but for a miraculous chance would have condemned you to death.
But the man you maimed for life pleads for you, and the jury that
convicted you begs that you go free. The Court remembers what you have
suffered and it knows the plight of your family, upon whom the heaviest
burden of your punishment would fall. Go, then, to your home. And to you,
gentlemen, a happy holiday such as you have given him and his! This court
stands adjourned."

The voice of the crier was lost in a storm of applause. The jury rose to
their feet and cheered judge, complainant, and defendant. Portoghese, who
had stood as one dazed, raised eyes that brimmed with tears to the bench
and to his old neighbor. He understood at last. Ammella threw his arm
around him a