“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,” continued the judge, “there were most singular rumors. During the evening and the night, rumor, as is often the case, led to evidence, and evidence has led to confession and to certainty. And the district attorney now desires me to say to you that the chief officer of the bank--who held the second key to the safe--is now under arrest for a heavy defalcation, which a sham robbery was to conceal, and that you may find the prisoner at the bar--not guilty. I congratulate you, gentlemen, that you had not rendered an adverse verdict.” “Your Honor!” said Eli, and he cleared his throat, “I desire it to be known that, even as the case stood last night, this jury had not agreed to convict, and never would have!” There was a hush, while a loud scratching pen indorsed the record of acquittal. Then Wood walked down to the jury-box and took Eli's hand.