who always carried a beard-comb in his pocket,
they were marched across the street to the hotel.

There were a number of men on the piazza waiting to see them,--jurymen,
witnesses, and the accused himself, for he was on bail. He had seen the
procession the night before, and, like the others, had read its meaning.

"Eli knows I would n't do it," he had said to himself, "and he's going
to hang out, sure."

The jury began to turn from the court-house door. Everybody looked. A
file of two men, another file, another, another; would there come three
men, and then one? No; Eli no longer walked alone.

Everybody looked at Wood; he turned sharply away.

But this time the order of march in fact showed nothing, one way or the
other. It only meant that the judge, who had happened to see the jury
the night before returning from their supper, had sent for the high
sheriff in some temper,--for judges are human,--and had vigorously
intimated that if that statesman did not look after his fool of a
deputy, who let a jury parade secrets to the public view, he would!

The jury were in their room again. At nine o'clock came a rap, and a
summons from the court. The prosecuting attorney was speaking with the
judge when they went in. In a moment he took his seat.

"John Wood!" called out the clerk, and the defendant arose. His attorney
was not there.

"Mr. Foreman!" said the judge, rising. The jury arose. The silence of
the crowded courtroom was intense.

"Before the clerk asks you for a verdict, gentlemen," said the judge, "I
have something of the first importance to say to you, which has but this
moment come to my knowledge."

Eli changed color, and the whole court-room looked at him.

"There were some most singular rumors, after the case was given to you,
gentlemen, to the effect that there had been in this cause a criminal
abuse of justice. It is painful to suspect, and shocking to know,
that courts and juries are liable ever to suffer by such unprincipled
practices. After ten years upon the bench, I never witness a conviction
of crime without pain; but that pain is light, compared with the
distress of knowing of a wilful perversion of justice. It is a relief
to me to be able to say to you that such instances are, in my judgment,
exceedingly rare, and--so keen is the awful searching power of
truth--are almost invariably discovered."

The foreman touched his neighbor with his elbow. Eli folded his arms.

"As I said," continu