There was an audible murmur of assent from the people.
"That's true," said one. "It's the truest word spoken to-night," said another. "The old man is all for mercy," said a third. "It isn't safe," said a fourth. And there was other whispering, and much nodding of heads and shuffling of feet.
Encouraged by these comments the little spokesman added—
"In any other country at this age of the world a man who tacitly admitted a design to take life would be promptly clapped into prison."
"Ay, ay," the people muttered, but the Bishop drew himself up and said, "In any other country a criminal who showed no fear of the death that hung over him would be straightway consigned to a madhouse."
"We have no madhouse in this island, my lord," said the little spokesman, "save the Sulpher Mines, and there he must go."
"Wait," said the Bishop, and once again he turned to the prisoner. "If this Court should agree to ship you out of Iceland will you promise never more to return to it?"
For the third time all eyes were turned on Jason, but he did not seem to hear the Bishop's question.
"Will you promise?" said the Bishop again.
"No," said Jason.