All the evidence given by the different witnesses agreed completely,
and formed a chain which showed the whole of the prisoner's movements
at the time of the committal of the murder. Therefore, it was
absolutely impossible that the murder could have been committed by the
man in the dock. The strongest piece of evidence brought forward by the
prosecution was that of the witness Hableton, who swore that the
prisoner used threats against the life of the deceased. But the
language used was merely the outcome of a passionate Irish nature, and
was not sufficient to prove the crime to have been committed by the
prisoner. The defence which the prisoner set up was that of an ALIBI,
and the evidence of the witnesses for the defence proved conclusively
that the prisoner could not, and did not, commit the murder. Finally,
Calton wound up his elaborate and exhaustive speech, which lasted for
over two hours, by a brilliant peroration, calling upon the jury to
base their verdict upon the plain facts of the case, and if they did so
they could hardly fail in bringing in a verdict of "Not Guilty."
When Calton sat down a subdued murmur of applause was heard, which was
instantly suppressed, and the judge began to sum up, strongly in favour
of Fitzgerald. The jury then retired, and immediately there was a dead
silence in the crowded Court--an unnatural silence, such as must have
fallen on the blood-loving Roman populace when they saw the Christian
martyrs kneeling on the hot yellow sands of the arena, and watched the
long, lithe forms of lion and panther creeping steadily towards their
prey. The hour being late the gas had been lighted, and there was a
sickly glare through the wide hall.
Fitzgerald had been taken out of court on the retiring of the jury, but
the spectators stared steadily at the empty dock, which seemed to
enchain them by some indescribable fascination. They conversed among
themselves only in whispers, until even the whispering ceased, and
nothing could be heard but the steady ticking of the clock, and now and
then the quick-drawn breath of some timid on-looker. Suddenly, a woman,
whose nerves were over-strung, shrieked, and the cry rang weirdly
through the crowded hall. She was taken out, and again there was
silence, every eye being now fixed on the door through which the jury
would re-issue with their verdict of life or death. The hands of the
clock moved slowly round--a quarter--a half--three quarters--and then
the hour sounded with a silvery ring which startled everyone. Madge,
sitting with her hands tightly clasped together, began to fear that her
highly-strung nerves would give way.
"My God," she muttered softly to herself; "will this suspense never
end?"
Just then the door opened, and the jury re-entered. The prisoner was
again placed in the dock, and the judge resumed his seat, this time
with the black cap in his pocket, as everyone guessed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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