Surely by now everything for and against Mrs. Clarke must have been discussed ad nauseam. Only the vainest of repetitions could be occupying the time of the jury. People began positively to hate those twelve uninteresting men, torn from their dull occupations to decide a woman’s fate. Even Mrs. Chetwinde showed vexation.
“This is really becoming ridiculous,” she murmured. “Even twelve fools should know when to give their folly a rest.”
“I suppose there must be one or two holding out against all argument and persuasion. Don’t you think so?” said Dion, almost morosely.
“I dare say. I know a great deal about individual fools, but very little about them in dozens. The heat is becoming unbearable.”
She sighed deeply and moved in her seat, opening and shutting her fan.
“She must be enduring torment,” muttered Dion.
“Yes; even Cynthia can hardly be proof against this intolerable delay.”
Another dropping down of chimes: eight o’clock! A long murmur went through the crowd. Some one said: “They’re coming at last.”
Every one moved. Instinctively Dion leant forward to look at Mrs. Clarke. He felt very much excited and nervous, almost as if his own fate were about to be decided. As he looked he saw Mrs. Clarke draw herself up till she seemed taller than usual. She had a pair of gloves in her lap, and she now began to pull one of these gloves on, slowly and carefully, as if she were thinking about what she was doing. The jury filed in looking feverish, irritable and battered. Three or four of them showed piteous and injured expressions. Two others had the peculiar look of obstinate men who have been giving free rein to their vice, indulging in an orgy of what they call willpower. Their faces were, at the same time, implacable and ridiculous, but they walked impressively. The Judge was sent for. Two or three minutes elapsed before he came in. During those minutes there was no coughing and scarcely any moving. The silence in the court was vital. During it, Dion stared hard at the jury and strove to read the verdict in their faces. Naturally he failed. No message came from them to him.
The Judge came back to the bench, looking weary and harsh.