Short stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"Eli knows I wouldn'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 court-room 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!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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