The Old Bailey jury, however, proved somewhat more sophisticated than the Kingston jury, and, without hesitation, they rejected the subtle theories of counsel for the defence. The fact could never be obscured that Collard had been murdered by Barthélemy, and their immediate and unanimous verdict was that the prisoner was guilty. The usual sentence of death followed, and Barthélemy received it with a mocking bow. He did not care, and he was not afraid.
He knew that there was no chance of a reprieve, and while he awaited execution he conducted himself quietly, giving no trouble to the prison authorities. He declared himself an atheist and declined to receive a priest of his own nationality. When the chaplain managed to speak a few words of admonition he answered with a laugh:
"I don't want God to save my soul. If there is a God let him save my body by opening the prison doors. That's all I ask."
As the time grew shorter, however, Barthélemy became anxious about something, but it was not his soul. Sending for the Governor he declared that the only cause of uneasiness was a fear lest after his death his clothes should be exhibited at Madame Tussaud's! The Governor reassured him by promising him that they would not, and once more the convict's mind was at rest, and he faced eternity calmly.
Calcraft was the executioner, and Barthélemy made his acquaintance with a cynical smile.
"I have one thing to ask of you—do it quickly," he said, on the morning of his execution, January 22nd, 1855.
The grim-visaged executioner nodded. Barthélemy was undoubtedly a type of murderer not often met with even by a man with Calcraft's experience.
When the Frenchman stepped on to the scaffold he surveyed the crowd with a cool stare, slightly contemptuous of their interest and excitement. In his opinion death was not worth all this display. He was treating it with the indifference it merited.
"Now I shall know the secret," he said, as the rope was placed around his neck. A few minutes later he was dead.