“Are you agreed upon your verdict, gentlemen?” whispered the Clerk of the Arraigns.
“We are,” said the foreman of the jury, in a voice that could hardly be heard.
“What is your verdict, gentlemen?”
“We return a verdict of—of—”
The conclusion of the sentence seemed to die in the foreman’s throat.
“Will you please speak in such a manner that his lordship may hear you?” said the clerk.
“We return a verdict of not guilty,” said the foreman, with his eyes fixed on the rail before him. To the horror of many who observed him, he appeared to trace some words upon it with his finger.
The demonstration which followed the verdict had been anticipated, and accordingly on this occasion the officers of the court were able in some measure to control it.
No sooner had the judge uttered a few words, which in the clamor were inaudible, than he rose hastily from his seat. In the same instant Northcote rose also, and that voice and presence which for so many hours had exercised such an unquestioned sway at once detained those who were thronging eagerly through the doors into the raw December darkness.
“Before the court rises,” said Northcote, “I crave your lordship’s indulgence for a brief moment.”