"Given in? What dost a' mean?" "Ay, I've heerd as 'ow he's consented to have a counsel." "Who has he got, then?" "I don't know for certain, but it is said that young Mr. Springfield hev took on th' job." "But he can noan clear hissen." "I'm noan so sure. He's a rare clever chap, is Paul!" "It would be fun to see him swing, wouldn't it? It's a shame that they hang people in private now, instead of in public like they used to." And so on. To them it was like a scene in a theatre. Their appetites were morbid, and they had come thither to appease their hunger. One by one the barristers found their way to their seats. Clerks were busy writing at their desks, while the reporters sat at the table allotted to them, writing descriptive articles. To them the occasion offered a fine opportunity. It was no ordinary trial. Paul Stepaside was a young member of Parliament, and had become popular throughout the whole county. He had been freely discussed as a coming man. What wonder then that tongues wagged! What wonder the crowd eagerly waited his coming! The murdered man, too, was well known in the county. He was a big employer of labour, and had freely moved in Lancashire society. Sitting close to the barristers' seats, ladies belonging to some of the best families in Lancashire had gathered. They, too, were eager, hungry for excitement. Some of them were educated women, delicately nurtured, and it seemed strange that they should find an interest in such gruesome proceedings. Yet, with a kind of reversion to the savage instincts of former days, they had gathered with the rest. After all, civilisation is only a veneer, and the old, elementary, savage feelings lie dormant in it all. "Bakewell's for the prosecution, I suppose," said one young barrister to another. "Yes; and it couldn't be in better hands. I wish Stepaside were not such a fool!" "Why, would you like the job?" "Like it! I should think I would! It's one of the finest opportunities since I've been called." "But he's no defence, man!" "Oh, a defence could easily be made. It would give a fellow a splendid chance. You see the case is the talk of the country, and the question of motive has to figure largely. Why, the evidence could be riddled! To say the least of it, one might get a verdict for manslaughter." "You mean to say he won't give you the chance you want." And the other laughed. "Anyhow, it seems jolly mean of him not to allow one to make the most of such an opportunity. You know Binkley, don't you? He's now making thousands a year. For years he used to hang around the courts, unable to get a brief, and then a case something like this turned up, and he acted for the prisoner." "But he didn't get him off." "No; but, don't you see, it gave him his chance. His cross-examination was clever, and his speech for the defence was so brilliant that it gave him a reputation. It made him! After that, briefs came in like mad. But I see time is up."