“Come to the next, Herr Chatelain,” put in Peterchen, leaning to the side of the law’s triumph; “let us have the next, o’ God’s name!”

“A brooch of amethyst, the stone of our own mountains, set in foil, and the size of one-eighth of an inch; form oval.”

It was lying on the table, beyond all possibility of dispute.  All the remaining articles, which were chiefly rings of the less prized stones, such as jasper, granite, topaz, and turquoise, were also identified, answering perfectly to the description furnished by the jeweller, who had sold them to Jacques Colis the night of the fete, when, with Swiss thrift, he had laid in this small stock in trade, with a view to diminish the cost of his intended journey.

“It is a principle of law, unfortunate man,” remarked the chatelain, removing the spectacles he had mounted in order to read the list, “that effects wrongly taken from one robbed criminate him in whose possession they are found, unless he can render a clear account of the transfer.  What hast thou to say on this head?”

“Not a syllable, Signore; I must refer you and all others to the dog, who alone can furnish the history of these baubles.  It is clear that I am little known in the Valais, for Maso never deals in trifles insignificant as these.”

“The pretext will not serve thee, Maso; thou triflest in an affair of life and death.  Wilt thou confess thy crime, ere we proceed to extremities?”

“That I have been long at open variance with the law, Signor Castellano, is true, if you will have it so; but I am as innocent of this man’s death as the noble Baron de Willading here.  That the Genoese authorities were looking for me, on account of some secret understanding that the republic has with its old enemies, the Savoyards, I frankly allow too; but it was a matter of gain, and not of blood.  I have taken life in my time, Signore, but it has been in fair combat, whether the cause was just or not.”

“Enough has been proved against thee already to justify the use of the torture in order to have the rest.”

“Nay; I do not see the necessity of this appeal,” remarked the bailiff.  “There lies the dead, here is his property, and yonder stands the criminal.  It is an affair that only wants the forms, methinks, to be committed presently to the axe.”

“Of all the foul offences against God and man,” resumed the Valaisan, in the manner of one that is about to sentence, “that which hastens a living soul, unshrived, unconfessed, unprepared, and with all its sins upon it, into another state of being and into the dread presence of his Almighty Judge, is the heaviest, and the last to be overlooked by the law.  There is less excuse for thee, Thomaso Santi, for thy education has been far superior to thy fortunes, and thou hast passed a life of vice and violence in opposition to thy reason and what was taught thee in youth.  Thou hast, therefore, little ground for hope, since the state I serve loves justice in its purity above all other qualities.”