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..