At first his words came slowly, with some stiffness and self-consciousness.

This passed; he forgot himself, thought only of his subject, and utterance became quiet, grave, and fluent.

He did not speak as though he were addressing a jury.

Gesture was impossible, and his voice must not carry beyond the blue room.

He spoke as to himself, as giving reasons to a high intelligence for the invalidity of murder.
For an infusion of sentiment and rhetoric he knew he might trust Mocket's unaided powers, but the basis of the matter he would furnish.
He spoke of murder as the check the savage gives to social order, as the costliest error, the last injustice, the monstrousness beyond the brute, the debt without surety, the destruction by a fool of that which he knows not how to create.