"Why, what do you mean?"
"Oh, you know she was engaged to young Wilson."
"I've heard that was denied."
"Well, anyhow, there's something about it in one of the Brunford papers, and there's no doubt Wilson was in love with her."
"Then no wonder she was pale."
"Mrs. Jackson told me she saw her smile on the prisoner."
"She must have been mistaken. It's terribly interesting, isn't it?"
"I wonder when they will commence. It's five minutes past time."
This was true. Five minutes had passed away since Paul had been led to the dock, and still the trial had not commenced. The reason for this was evident—the judge had not yet appeared. The jurymen were in their places, conversing in low whispers one with another. More than one was anxious and pale. A number of barristers were also present, eager for the commencement of the day's trial. They were wondering what new factor would be at work that day. To most of them it was a case that was deeply interesting, one which they wished to study and which might help them in days to come. Newspaper reporters sat busily writing. Each was trying to vie with the other to produce a sensational description. Presently, as if by magic, a great silence fell upon the court. It was now ten minutes past the time when the trial should commence, and still the judge had not appeared. Each seemed to be wondering what was the matter. The air was tense with excitement. Could anything have happened? What did the judge mean by being late? And still they waited and watched, until at last the silence became almost painful.
Presently a deep sigh rose from the crowded seats. It seemed as if the spectators wanted to give vent to their feelings. A curtain at the back of the hall was drawn aside, and Judge Bolitho, with bowed head and staggering footsteps, found his way to his accustomed seat.