Isaac was removed. The judge took the bottle and poured a drop on that small pinch of dust the man had last given him.
No effect followed.
“I pronounce this to be gold.”
“There,” put in McLaughlan, “ye see the lad was no deceiving ye; is it his fault if a' the gowd is no the same?”
“No!” whimpered Walker, eagerly, and the crowd began to whisper and allow he might be innocent.
The man standing behind the judge said, with a cold sneer: “That is the stuff he did not sell—now pour on the stuff he sold.”
These words brought back the prejudice against the prisoner, and a hundred voices shouted, “Pour!” while their eyes gleamed with a terrible curiosity.
Judge Lynch, awestruck by this terrible roar, now felt what it is to be a judge; he trembled and hesitated.
“Pour!” roared the crowd, still louder and more fiercely.
McLaughlan read the judge's feeling, and whimpered out, “Let it fa', lad—let it fa'!”