Finally our counsel made a grandstand bluff. They declared that witnesses, then in Mexico, could clear up the whole transaction, but in the absence of these they were compelled to submit the case without testimony. None of us took the stand. The lawyers unlimbered the usual forensic lore, illumined by bursts of fiery eloquence. Both the judges charged dead against us. However, Judge Hoffman threw me the following judicial bouquet: “For the accused I feel a deep regret, especially for one of them who appears to have been animated more by a zeal for the cause which he has unhappily espoused than by the sordid and unworthy motive of enriching himself by the plunder of his fellow-citizens. It is to be regretted that the courage and willingness to sacrifice himself for the benefit of his associates, a slight glimpse of which has been revealed by the evidence, have been wasted on an enterprise which is indefensible in morals as it is criminal in law.” It took the jury just four minutes to bring in a verdict of guilty of high treason. A few days later we were brought into court and sentenced each to ten years’ imprisonment and to pay a fine of $10,000. The county jail was named as the place of our confinement until the Government of the United States directed our imprisonment elsewhere. As for Law and Libby, they were secretly placed on board a ship bound for China by the United States authorities, and were never heard of afterward, though I took some pains to learn their fate. So ended the famous story of the so-called “Chapman piracy.” I have given the details at some length because, while in itself rather trivial, it has been made to cut quite a figure in history. The facts have been so outrageously distorted that I thought it best for some one having full personal knowledge of every detail to tell the truth. Libby’s first name was Lorenzo. People often ask, “What’s in a name?” Perhaps nothing; but I think otherwise. Lorenzo Libby helped to land me in prison. Lorenzo Smith did me up in a business deal, and I have unpleasant recollections of Lorenzo Sawyer, once on the Federal bench of San Francisco. I never see a man christened “Lorenzo” without an impression that he will bear a heap of watching. CHAPTER XII. ARREST OF ACCOMPLICE ALARMS AUTHOR AND ON ADVICE OF FRIENDS HE TAKES FLIGHT. _Amnesty Act Unlocks Prison Doors of Conspirators, But Fails to Bring Security._ In war times, the American Eagle was not a bloodthirsty bird. We began to have sympathizers, even among prominent Union men.