"I heard all you told the jury," remarked Judge Gilchrist, somewhat sharply. "You exhausted the subject, there's nothing left to say. I have the floor."
There was a pause during which the Court slowly took off his glasses, wiped them with his handkerchief and put them on again.
"This is an unusual case," he began, looking sternly at the defendant.
Back on the benches the crowd leaned forward eagerly.
"What will he give him?" asked someone.
On the rear seat, Burns of the Ideal Dairy, who never missed a big trial, turned to his friend Porteous, the Park Row hardware man, and remarked:
"I'll bet you another fifty, Billy, that he fines him a cold million dollars—that or more."
The hardware man only laughed.
"Done," he answered. "Judge Gilchrist wouldn't dare to fine him over fifty thousand dollars—and——"
"Hush!" whispered Burns. "He's speaking now."