"Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon a verdict?"
"We have," answered the foreman, rising and standing with his eyes upon the floor.
"How say you, do you find the defendant guilty, or not guilty?"
"Guilty of grand larceny in the first degree."
The prisoner involuntarily pressed his hand to his heart. He had weathered that blast before and could do so again. Dockbridge gave him a look full of pity. Graham hated him for it. That child! That snivelling little fool! He wanted none of his sympathy! His breath came faster. Must they all look at him? Was that a part of his trial—to be stared down? He glared back at them. The room swam, and he saw only the stern face on the bench above.
"Name?" broke in the harsh voice of the clerk.
"James Graham."
"Age?"
"Twenty-eight."
"Married, or unmarried?" "Temperate?" came the pitiless questions, all answered in a monotone.