The jury was polled by request of the prisoner’s counsel. No sooner had the last man answered “Yes” to the question whether all agreed on the verdict than the prisoner, erect and firm, turned his face full upon Mr. Beach (of the prosecution), who at one time had been his counsel in a civil case. “Mr. Beach,” the prisoner said, slowly and in a full-toned voice, “you have done your work well. I hope you have been well paid for it.” Then the prisoner sank slowly into his seat. Mr. Beach made no reply. Mr. Fellows, assistant district attorney, explained that he had refused to try the case unless Mr. Beach and Mr. Fullerton were associated with him. They had consented to join him at the request of District Attorney Garvin, and without any fee from any member of Colonel Fisk’s family. The prisoner half-arose and, sweeping the air with his clenched fist, said: “Mr. Fellows, say that they were hired by Jay Gould. Please say that!” The sensation in court was such as is seldom known. You could hear it as you hear the wind stirring the trees of the forest. Then the court discharged the jury and the people began to move. The following was printed in the _Sun_ of June 21, 1893, under date of New Bedford, Massachusetts: “Lizzie Andrew Borden,” said the clerk of the court, “stand up!” She arose unsteadily, with a face as white as marble. “Gentlemen, have you agreed upon a verdict?” said the clerk to the jury. It was so still in court that the flutter of two fans made a great noise. “We have,” said Foreman Richards boldly. The prisoner was gripping the rail in front of the dock as if her standing up depended upon its keeping its place. “Lizzie Andrew Borden,” said the clerk, “hold up your right hand. Jurors, look upon the prisoner. Prisoner, look upon the foreman.” Every juryman stood at right-about-face, staring at the woman. There was such a gentle, kindly light beaming in every eye that no one questioned the verdict that was to be uttered. But God save every woman from the feelings that Lizzie Borden showed in the return look she cast upon that jury! It was what is pictured as the rolling gaze of a dying person. She seemed not to have the power to move her eyes directly where she was told to, and they swung all around in her head. They looked at the ceiling; they looked at everything, but they saw nothing. It was a horrible, a pitiful sight, to see her then. “What say you, Mr. Foreman?” said the gentle old clerk. “Not guilty!” shouted Mr. Richards.