ands, that clasped the top of the railing of
the dock, his face, or what could be seen of it, was ghastly pale with
agony, while his emaciated frame trembled from head to foot. _He looked
like a guilty man._ And his looks were now, as they had been from the
moment in which the dead body of his master had been discovered, the
strongest testimony against him.

For all that, you know, they cannot hang a man merely because he looks as
if he ought to be hung.

After an absence of about fifteen minutes, the jury, led by a bailiff,
returned to the court-room.

The prisoner looked up, shivered, and dropped his head upon his clasped
hands again.

The dead silence of breathless expectation in the court-room was now
broken by the solemn voice of the Clerk of Arraigns, inquiring, in
measured tones:

"Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon your verdict?"

"We have," answered the foreman, a jolly, red-headed, round bodied Banff
baker.

"Prisoner at the bar, stand up and look upon the jury," ordered the
clerk.

The poor, abject, and terrified wretch tottered to his feet and stood,
pallid, shaking, and grasping the front rails of the dock for support.

"Gentlemen of the jury, look upon the prisoner. How say you, is the
prisoner at the bar guilty or not guilty of the felony herewith he stands
charged?" demanded the clerk.

"We find the charge against the prisoner to be--NOT PROVEN,"[A]
answered the foreman, speaking for the whole in a strong, distinct voice,
that was heard all over the court-room.

[Footnote A: "Not Proven"--a Scotch verdict in uncertain cases.]

On hearing the verdict which saved him from death, even if it did not
vindicate him, John Potts let go the rails of the dock and fell back in
his chair in a half-fainting condition.

"The prisoner is discharged from custody. The Court is adjourned," said
the presiding baron, rising and leaving his seat.

While one of the bailiffs was kindly supporting the faltering steps of
the released prisoner, in taking him from the dock, and while the crowd
in the court-room were pouring out of the front doors, the presiding
judge, Baron Stairs, came down to the place where the young Duke of
Hereward still sat. He had known the duke's father, and had also known
the duke himself from boyhood. He now held out his hand cordially,
saying:

"I am very glad to see your grace, though the occasion is a painful one.
Let me congratulate you on your marriage, I wish you every