I waited in the ante-room until the coroner’s jury had summed up. The jury consisted mostly of gentlemen who at one time had been guests in my own house. Of all former friends present, there was only one who had the moral courage to approach me and shake my hand. Throughout the time I sat awaiting the call to appear before the coroner he remained beside me, speaking words of encouragement. But the others, who, without a word of evidence in my defense, had already judged and condemned me, passed by on the other side, for had they not already judged and condemned me? When my name was called a dead hush pervaded the court, and the coroner said: “Have you agreed upon your verdict, gentlemen?” The Foreman: “We have.” Q. “Do you find that death resulted from the administration of an irritant poison?” A. “Unanimously.” Q. “Do you say by whom that poison was administered?” A. “By twelve to one we decide that the poison was administered by Mrs. Maybrick.” Q. “Do you find that the poison was administered with the intent of taking life?” A. “Twelve of us have come to that conclusion.” The Coroner: “That amounts to a verdict of murder.” Then the requisition was made out in the following terms: “That James Maybrick, on the 11th of May, 1889, in the township of Garston, died from the effects of an irritant poison administered to him by Florence Elizabeth Maybrick, and so the jurors say: that the said Florence Elizabeth Maybrick did wilfully, feloniously, and of malice aforethought kill and murder the said James Maybrick.” I was then driven back to the Lark Lane Police Station, locked up, and remained the night. The next day I was returned to Walton Jail. How shall I describe my feelings? Mere words are utterly inadequate to do so. Not only was my sense of justice and fair play outraged, but it seemed to me a frightful danger to personal safety if the police, on the mere gossip of servants, and where a doctor had been unable to assign the cause of death, could go into a home and take an inmate into custody in the way I have shown. On the 13th of June I was brought before the magistrates, and for the first time evidence was given in my presence. I had been driven over to the court-house the evening before, and had passed the night there in charge of a policeman’s daughter, who remained in the room with me. Her father kept watch on the other side of the door. That night, on going to bed, as I knelt weary and lonely to say my prayers, I felt a hand on my shoulder and a tearful voice said, softly, “Let me hold your hand, Mrs. Maybrick, and let me say my prayers with you.” A simple expression of sympathy, but it meant so much to me at such a time. THE DOCTORS DISAGREE