"Who killed Ferdinand Bulford?" said the judge. "A man without an enemy in the world! That tragedy cannot be explained away."
The judge looked down upon James Meredith. "You have been convicted of willful murder. There is little doubt, after hearing the evidence of the unfortunate lady to whom you were engaged -- and whose evidence you attempted in the most brutal manner to refute -- that, instigated by your jealousy, you shot Ferdinand Bulford.
"To suggest, as you have through your counsel, that you called at Miss Briggerland's that night to break off your engagement and that the interview was a mild one and unattended by recriminations is to suggest this lady has deliberately committed perjury in order to swear away your life; and when to that disgraceful charge you produce a motive, namely that by your death or imprisonment Miss Briggerland, who is your cousin, would benefit to a considerable extent, you merely add to your infamy. Nobody who saw the young girl in the box, a pathetic, and if I may say, a beautiful figure, could accept for one moment your fantastic explanation.
"The sentence is death!"
