Chapter Ninety Three.
A Body Beheaded.
Forsaken by two-thirds of its spectators—abandoned, by one-half of the jury—the trial taking place under the tree is of necessity interrupted.
There is no adjournment of the Court—only an interregnum, unavoidable, and therefore tacitly agreed to.
The interlude occupies about an hour; during which the judge smokes a couple of cigars; takes about twice that number of drinks from the bottle of peach brandy; chats familiarly with the counsel, the fragment of a jury, and such spectators as, not having horses, or not caring to give them a gallop, have stayed by the tree.
There is no difficulty in finding a subject of conversation. That is furnished by the incident that has just transpired—strange enough to be talked about not only for an hour, but an age.
The spectators converse of it, while with excited feelings they await the return of those who have started on the chase.
They are in hopes that the Headless Horseman will be captured. They believe that his capture will not only supply a clue to the mystery of his being, but will also throw light on that of the murder.