Towards the end of the letter I worked myself into quite a fervour of sublime confidence that no injustice would be done, and that an unseen Providence was watching over me. Then I read Lord Beaconsfield’s _Vivian Grey_ till I went to bed. I slept well, all things considered. I hoped to sleep better when the verdict was given, whichever way the case might be decided. The next morning I awoke early, and as the law took so little account of individual psychology as to imagine that I might cut my throat, I was obliged to send out for a barber. The youth who performed the operation was a pleasant young man, whose excitement was so painful that I warned him it was High Treason to cut the throat of a peer of the realm when he was being tried for his life. I asked him what his own opinion was as to my guilt. The question took him so entirely by surprise that he sprang away from me fully a yard. “Come,” I said. “What do people say?” He flushed and was silent. “So people think I am guilty, do they?” “Some do, your grace.” “That means that most do. Now, does anyone believe in my innocence?” “Oh yes, my lord, of course, some.” “I see; very few people believe in my innocence. Who are those that do?” He smiled. “I think the women do, my lord.” This was satisfactory. I could not have had more practical support. He told me further that there was a vast crowd outside in Westminster Yard. I advised him to make his way at once to a newspaper office, and sell them a description of his interview with me. I warned him, however, that he must exaggerate if he wished to be believed, and I gave him full permission to invent any details of the occurrence which he might think useful. The Hall was perhaps even more crowded than it had been the day before. This showed a proper increase of interest. The cross-examinations were masterly, especially when it was considered how simple the evidence of the bare half-dozen witnesses was. My counsel managed to throw doubt on the fact of my having been the man who bought the poison. This doubt, it is true, counsel for the prosecution soon swept aside, but I could not help admiring the dexterity with which my counsel threw a veil of uncertainty over what, when stated by the prosecution, had seemed facts beyond dispute.