"Gentlemen of the jury," said the clerk, folding the paper in his formal manner, "is this your verdict?"
"It is," said Broadwell.
"So say you all."
There was silence. After a while Marriott controlled himself and said:
"Your Honor, we demand a poll of the jury."
Slowly, one after another, the clerk called the names, and one after another the jurors rose.
"Is this your verdict?" asked the clerk.
"Perhaps," thought Marriott as each one rose, "perhaps even now, one will relent, one will change--one--"
"It is," each man answered.
Then Glassford was speaking again--the everlasting formalities, mocking the very sense of things, thanking the jury, congratulating them, discharging them.