and the quality proper to greatness, even as the crimes it recorded
and the man responsible for them. Pendean's confession revealed an
insensibility, a faulty sense of humour, an affectation and a love
for the glittering and the grandiose that robbed it of any supreme
claim in the annals or literature of murder. The document ended with
an assurance that Michael would never die at the hands of his fellow
man. He had repeated this assertion on several occasions and every
conceivable precaution was taken to prevent evasion of his
sentence--an issue to be recorded in its proper place.

Here is his statement, word for word as he wrote it.

* * * * *

MY APOLOGIA

"_Hearken, ye judges! There is another madness besides, and it is
before the deed. Ah! Ye have not gone deep enough into this soul!
Thus speaketh the red judge: 'Why did this criminal commit murder?
He meant to rob.' I tell you, however, that his soul hungered for
blood, not booty: he thirsted for the happiness of the knife!_"

And again:

"_What is this man? A coil of wild serpents at war against
themselves--so they are driven apart to seek their prey in the
world._"

So wrote one whose art and wisdom are nought to this rabbit-brained
generation; but it was given to me to find my meat and drink within