"I thought you were going to stop all night, sir," she ventured to say. "Dreadful dreary it was, sitting there, a-waiting."
"Why did you not wait in the kitchen?"
"Because every minute I fancied you must be coming out. Good night, sir."
"Good night," returned Mr. Fauntleroy, putting half-a-crown in her hand. "There; that's in case you have to wait on the stairs for me again."
Eliza brightened up, and officiously lighted Mr. Fauntleroy some paces down the street, in spite of the gas-lamp at the door, which shone well. "What a good humour the old lawyer's in!" quoth she. "I wonder what his business was? I heard him say something had arose in Carr and Carr."
CHAPTER VIII.
THE SECOND DAY.
Tuesday morning dawned, and before nine o'clock the Nisi Prius court was more densely packed than on the preceding day: all Westerbury—at least, as many as could push in—were anxious to hear his lordship's summing up. At twenty-eight minutes after nine, the javelins of the sheriff's men appeared in the outer hall, ushering in the procession of the judges.
The senior judge proceeded to the criminal court; the other, as on the Monday, took his place in the Nisi Prius. His lordship had his notes in his hand, and was turning to the jury, preparatory to entering on his task, when Mr. Serjeant Wrangle rose.