he bones of the skull and produce just such
a hole as that was in Schulte's head."

He illustrated this by starting to his feet and raising his hands as
if he was about to strike the blow himself. The murderous glitter
came again into those flashing eyes. His words came thick and
fast--the demon smile was upon his lips. He was acting again the
scene of that dreadful night, and, oblivious of his listener, or the
impressions he was creating, he lived again that frightful moment
when he had inflicted the blows that laid the old man dead at his
feet.

There was a realism about his manner that was awfully impressive, and
the detective involuntarily shuddered as he looked into those
gleaming eyes, in which murder was clearly reflected. All doubts were
removed from his mind--the murderer of Henry Schulte stood before
him--and if the judges and the jury that were to hear his case in a
few days could have witnessed this scene, conviction would have been
carried to the minds of the most skeptical.

No confession seemed necessary now. If ever murder was depicted upon
a human face it was expressed in every lineament of the face of the
man who stood before the detective in that prison cell.

The wicked gleam had not died out from his eyes, as, unconscious of
the effect his manner had produced, he resumed his position, and
added, in a tone of entire satisfaction:

"Yes, yes, that axe is all right!"

Edward Sommers shuddered as he gazed at the man before him--the man
who had become as putty in his hands, and yet who possessed a heart
so black as to be capable of the damning deed for which he was so
soon to be tried for committing.

He thought of the tears this man had shed in the darkness of the
lonely nights; of the accusing voices that had rung in his ears
during his uneasy slumbers; of the conscience that would not down at
the command of the resolute will--and then of the incidents of this
afternoon, when the murderer stood revealed before him in all the
hideous deformity of his brutal passion and his self confessed crime.

Of a truth events and not men are alone worthy of consideration in
the life of a detective.

THE JUDGMENT.

CHAPTER XXX.

_The Trial._--_An unexpected Witness._--_A convincing Story._--_An
able, but fruitless Defense._--_A verdict of Guilty._--_The triumph
of Justice._

The trial of William Bucholz for the murder of Henry Schulte began in
the old Court House at Bridgeport on the ninth