" ... In our own way. So far I've always had my own way in my cases," declared Patrick Durand, "and if I can't have it in this one, why, I'll retire, that's all." "Yes, you must do as they say, Peter V." advised Flomerfelt, suavely, and then lowering his voice so that the others should not hear, he added: "If in the course of human events it should become necessary to lay a bribe in order to get you clear, I'll attend to that myself." XI "Guilty, your Honour." The voice was the tremulous voice of the foreman of a jury. His hand shook as it held the slip of paper from which he read the portentous words. The Court leaned over toward him. "I didn't catch that," said the Court. Once more the foreman drew himself together, and moistened his lips before he repeated in shrill tones: "Guilty, your Honour--guilty as charged in the indictment." For a brief moment there was a silence; then the spacious court-room broke into subdued uproar. "Jumpin' Jerusalem, I didn't think they'd have the nerve to do it!" came from a voice somewhere in the crowd; and judging from the expression on the faces of the people, this remark was fairly indicative of their opinion. The Court rapped for silence, and nodded to Beekman, the active counsel for the defence. "If the Court please," began Beekman, his face pale, and his voice trembling with surprise and disappointment, "we move to set aside the verdict and for a new trial on the ground that the verdict is against the weight of evidence, against the charge of the Court, contrary to...." A heavy hand was laid upon Beekman's arm. "Hold on there! I want that jury polled!" The speaker of these words was Peter V. Wilkinson; for this trial was his trial; and this verdict was the verdict in his case. "Morehead, get 'em to poll that jury!" Again he spoke as one accustomed to command, and not as a prisoner before the bar. "Poll the jury," directed the Court. The clerk started to obey. "Now, Morehead," went on Wilkinson in a hoarse whisper, "I want you to place in my hands--my hands, you understand--the name and address of every mother's son upon that jury. I won't forget 'em, let me tell you that." "John T. Wyatt," droned the clerk. And Wyatt, juror, stiffened for an instant, hesitated, and then taking a big grip on himself, answered as his foreman had: "Guilty." Every man in the box made the same answer; but as every man voiced his verdict, he met the sullen, defiant, vengeful gaze of a man who never forgot, who never forgave, and each man felt that instant as if, somehow, he were in the tightening grasp of the big millionaire at the counsel table. "Now make your motions, Beekman," whispered Morehead. And Beekman made a motion to set aside the verdict; made a motion in arrest of judgment; made a motion for a new trial. Wilkinson watched the face of the Court as he had watched the faces of the jurymen.