He swept from the bench in his silken robes.  Angelo was led away.  The crowd in the courtroom slowly dispersed.  Mr. Tutt, escorted by Tutt, went out in the corridor to smoke.

“Ye got a raw deal, counselor,” remarked Captain Phelan, amiably accepting a stogy.  “Nothing but an act of Providence c’d save that Eyetalian from the chair.  An’ him guilty at that!”

An hour passed; then another.  At half after four a rumor flew along the corridors that the jury in the Serafino case had reached a verdict and were coming in.  A messenger scurried to the judge’s chambers.  Phelan descended the iron stairs to bring up the prisoner, while Tutt to prevent a scene invented an excuse by which he lured Rosalina to the first floor of the building.  The crowd suddenly reassembled out of nowhere and poured into the courtroom.  The reporters gathered expectantly round their table.  The judge entered, his robes, gathered in one hand.

“Bring in the jury,” he said sharply.  “Arraign the prisoner at the bar.”

Mr. Tutt took his place beside his client at the railing, while the jury, carrying their coats and hats, filed slowly in.  Their faces were set and relentless.  They looked neither to the right nor to the left.  O’Brien sauntered over and seated himself nonchalantly with his back to the court, studying their faces.  Yes, he told himself, they were a regular set of hangmen—­he couldn’t have picked a tougher bunch if he’d had his choice of the whole panel.

The clerk called the roll, and Messrs. Walsh, Tompkins, et al., stated that they were all present.

“Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon a verdict?” inquired the clerk.

“We have!” replied Mr. Walsh sternly.

“How say you?  Do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?”

Mr. Tutt gripped the balustrade in front of him with one hand and put his other arm round Angelo.  He felt that now in truth murder was being done.

“We find the defendant not guilty,” said Mr. Walsh defiantly.

There was a momentary silence of incredulity.  Then Babson and O’Brien shouted simultaneously:  “What!”

“We find the defendant not guilty,” repeated Mr. Walsh stubbornly.

“I demand that the jury be polled!” cried the crestfallen O’Brien, his face crimson.

And then the twelve reiterated severally that that was their verdict and that they hearkened unto it as it stood recorded and that they were entirely satisfied with it.

“You are discharged!” said Babson in icy tones.  “Strike the names of these men from the list of jurors—­as incompetent.  Haven’t you any other charge on which you can try this defendant?”

“No, Your Honor,” answered O’Brien grimly.  “He didn’t take the stand, so we can’t try him for perjury; and there isn’t any other indictment against him.”

Judge Babson turned ferociously upon Mr. Tutt: 

“This acquittal is a blot upon the administration of criminal justice; a disgrace to the city!  It is an unconscionable verdict; a reflection upon the intelligence of the jury!  The defendant is discharged.  This court is adjourned.”