Noughts and Crosses | Page 7

sharply as it then did, after
the numb apathy of waiting.
As the jury huddled into their places I stole a look at my counsel. He
paused for a moment from his task of trimming a quill, shot a quick
glance at the foreman's face, and then went on cutting as coolly as ever.
"Gentlemen of the jury"--it was the judge's voice--"are you agreed upon
your verdict?"

"We are."
"Do you find the prisoner guilty or not guilty?"
"Not guilty."
It must have been full a minute, as I leant back clutching the rail in
front of me, before I saw anything but the bleared eyes of the candles,
or heard anything but a hoarse murmur from the crowd. But as soon as
the court ceased to heave, and I could stare about me, I looked towards
my counsel again.
He was still shaping his pen. He made no motion to come forward and
shake hands over my acquittal, for which he had worked untiringly all
day. He did not even offer to speak. He just looked up, nodded
carelessly, and turned to his junior beside him; but in that glance I had
read something which turned my heart cold, then sick, within me, and
from that moment my hatred of the man was as deep as hell.
In the fog outside I got clear of the gaping crowd, but the chill of the
night after that heated court pierced my very bones. I had on the clothes
I had been taken in. It was June then, and now it was late in October. I
remember that on the day when they caught me I wore my coat open
for coolness. Four months and a half had gone out of my life. Well, I
had money enough in my pocket to get a greatcoat; but I must put
something warm inside me first, to get out the chill that cursed lawyer
had laid on my heart.
I had purposely chosen the by-lanes of the town, but I remembered a
certain tavern--the "Lamb and Flag"--which lay down a side alley.
Presently the light from its windows struck across the street, ahead. I
pushed open the door and entered.
The small bar was full of people newly come from the court, and
discussing the trial in all its bearings. In the babel I heard a dozen
different opinions given in as many seconds, and learnt enough, too, to
make me content with the jury I had had. But the warmth of the place
was pleasant, and I elbowed my way forward to the counter.

There was a woman standing by the door as I entered, who looked
curiously at me for a moment, then turned to nudge a man at her side,
and whisper. The whisper grew as I pressed forward, and before I could
reach the counter a hand was laid on my shoulder from behind. I
turned.
"Well?" said I.
It was a heavy-looking drover that had touched me.
"Are you the chap that was tried to-day for murder of Jeweller Todd?"
he asked.
"Well?" said I again, but I could see the crowd falling back, as if I was
a leper, at his question.
"Well? 'Taint well then, as I reckon, to be making so free with
respectable folk."
There was a murmur of assent from the mouths turned towards me. The
landlord came forward from behind the bar.
"I was acquitted," I urged defiantly.
"Ac-quitted!" said he, with big scorn in the syllables. "Hear im
now--'ac-quitted!' Landlord, is this a respectable house?"
The landlord gave his verdict.
"H'out yer goes, and damn yer impudence!"
I looked round, but their faces were all dead against me.
"H'out yer goes!" repeated the landlord. "And think yerself lucky it aint
worse," added the drover.
With no further defence I slunk out into the night once more.
A small crowd of children (Heaven knows whence or how they

gathered) followed me up the court and out into the street. Their
numbers swelled as I went on, and some began to hoot and pelt me; but
when I gained the top of the hill, and a lonelier district, I turned and
struck among them with my stick. It did my heart good to hear their
screams.
After that I was let alone, and tramped forward past the scattered
houses, towards the open country and the moors. Up here there was
scarcely any fog, but I could see it, by the rising moon, hanging like a
shroud over the town below. The next town was near upon twelve
miles off, but I do not remember that I thought of getting so far. I could
not have thought at all, in fact, or I should hardly have taken the
high-road upon which the jeweller had been stopped and