suffered considerable losses, and was at last driven to borrowing at a high rate of interest, without any reasonable prospect of being able to repay the money-lenders into whose hands he had fallen.  When he left Rio on the homeward voyage, there is no sort of doubt that he was returning to England to face creditors whom he was unable to pay.  There, gentlemen, is a noticeable side to his character which we may call the gambling side, and which (as I think) was too leniently viewed by the judge.”

He evidently intended to add a word or two more.  But the disagreeable invalid insisted on being heard.

“In plain English,” he said, “you are for finding the prisoner guilty.”

“In plain English,” the foreman rejoined, “I refuse to answer that question.”

“Why?”

“Because it is no part of my duty to attempt to influence the verdict.”

“You have been trying to influence the verdict, sir, ever since you entered this room.  I appeal to all the gentlemen present.”

The patience of the long-suffering foreman failed him at last.  “Not another word shall pass my lips,” he said, “until you find the prisoner guilty or not guilty among yourselves—­and then I’ll tell you if I agree to your verdict.”

He folded his arms, and looked like the image of a man who intended to keep his word.

The hungry juryman laid himself back in his chair, and groaned.  The amateur artist, who had thus far found a fund of amusement in his blotting-paper, yawned discontentedly and dropped his pen.  The courteous gentleman who suffered from fidgets requested leave to walk up and down the room; and at the first turn he took woke the drowsy little man, and maddened the irritable invalid by the creaking of his boots.  The chorus of five, further than ever from arriving at an opinion of their own, looked at the silent juryman.  Once more he smiled mysteriously; and once more he offered an explanation of what was passing in his mind—­except that he turned his bald head slowly in the direction of the foreman.  Was he in sympathy with a man who had promised to be as silent as himself?

In the meantime, nothing was said or done.  Helpless silence prevailed in every part of the room.

“Why the devil doesn’t somebody begin?” cried the invalid.  “Have you all forgotten the evidence?”

This startling question roused the jury to a sense of what was due to their oaths, if not to themselves.  Some of them recollected the evidence in one way, and some of them recollected it in another; and each man insisted on doing justice to his own excellent memory, and on stating his own unanswerable view of the case.