came. Still no result. By and by there was one which contained a single line:
“Court now coming in after brief recess to hear verdict. Jury ready.”
“Oh, I wish they would finish!” said Washington. “This suspense is killing me by inches!”
Then came another telegram:
“Another hitch somewhere. Jury want a little more time and further instructions.”
“Well, well, well, this is trying,” said the Colonel. And after a pause, “No dispatch from Dilworthy for two hours, now. Even a dispatch from him would be better than nothing, just to vary this thing.”
They waited twenty minutes. It seemed twenty hours.
“Come!” said Washington. “I can’t wait for the telegraph boy to come all the way up here. Let’s go down to Newspaper Row — meet him on the way.”
While they were passing along the Avenue, they saw someone putting up a great display-sheet on the bulletin board of a newspaper office, and an eager crowd of men was collecting abort the place. Washington and the Colonel ran to the spot and read this:
“Tremendous Sensation! Startling news from Saint’s Rest! On first ballot for U. S. Senator, when voting was about to begin, Mr. Noble rose in his place and drew forth a package, walked forward and laid it on the Speaker’s desk, saying, ‘This contains $7,000 in bank bills and was given me by Senator Dilworthy in his bedchamber at midnight last night to buy — my vote for him — I wish the Speaker to count the money and retain it to pay the expense of prosecuting this infamous traitor for bribery. The whole legislature was stricken speechless with dismay and astonishment. Noble further said that there were fifty members present with money in their pockets, placed there by Dilworthy to buy their votes. Amidst unparalleled excitement the ballot was now taken, and J. W. Smith elected U. S. Senator; Dilworthy receiving not one vote! Noble promises damaging exposures concerning Dilworthy and certain measures of his now pending in Congress.
“Good heavens and earth!” exclaimed the Colonel.
“To the Capitol!” said Washington. “Fly!”
And they did fly. Long before they got there the newsboys were running ahead of them with Extras, hot from the press, announcing the astounding news.
Arrived in the gallery of the Senate, the friends saw a curious spectacle — every Senator held an Extra in his hand and looked as interested as if it contained news of the destruction of the earth. Not a single member was paying the least attention to the business of the hour.
The Secretary, in a loud voice, was just beginning to read the title of a bill:
“House-Bill — No. 4,231, — An-Act-to-Found-and-Incorporate-the Knobs-Industrial-University! — Read-first-and-second-time-considered-in-committee-of-the-whole-ordered-engrossed and-passed-to-third-reading-and-final passage!”
The President — ”Third reading of the bill!”
The two friends shook in their shoes. Senators threw down their extras and snatched a word or two with each other in whispers. Then the gavel rapped to command silence while the names were called on the ayes and nays. Washington grew paler and paler, weaker and weaker while the lagging list progressed; and when it was finished, his head fell helplessly forward on his arms. The fight was fought, the long struggle was over, and he was a pauper. Not a man had voted for the bill!
Col. Sellers was bewildered and well nigh paralyzed, himself. But no man could long consider his own troubles in the presence of such suffering as Washington’s. He got him up and supported him — almost carried him indeed — out of the building and into a carriage. All the way home Washington lay with his face against the Colonel’s shoulder and merely groaned and wept. The Colonel tried as well as he could under the dreary circumstances to hearten him a little, but it was of no use. Washington was past all hope of cheer, now. He only said:
“Oh, it is all over — it is all over for good, Colonel. We must beg our bread, now. We never can get up again. It was our last chance, and it is gone. They will hang Laura! My God they will hang her! Nothing can save the poor girl now. Oh, I wish with all my soul they would hang me instead!”
Arrived at home, Washington fell into a chair and buried his face in his hands and gave full way to his misery. The Colonel did not know where to turn nor what to do. The servant maid knocked at the door and passed in a telegram, saying it had come while they were gone.
The Colonel tore it open and read with the voice of a man-of-war’s broadside:
“VERDICT OF JURY, NOT GUILTY AND LAURA IS FREE!”
CHAPTER LVIII.
The court room was packed on the morning on which the verdict of the jury was expected, as it had been every day of the trial, and by the same spectators, who had followed its progress with such intense interest.
There is a delicious moment of excitement which the frequenter of trials well knows, and which he would not miss for the world. It is that instant when the foreman of the jury stands up to give the verdict, and before he has opened his fateful lips.
The court assembled and waited. It was an obstinate jury.
It even had another question — this intelligent jury — to ask the judge this morning.
The question was this: “Were the doctors clear that the deceased had no disease which might soon have carried him off, if he had not been shot?” There was evidently one jury man who didn’t want to waste life, and was willing to stake a general average, as the jury always does in a civil case, deciding not according to the evidence but reaching the verdict by some occult mental process.
During the delay the spectators exhibited unexampled patience, finding amusement and relief in the slightest movements of the court, the prisoner and the lawyers. Mr. Braham divided with Laura the attention of the house. Bets were made by the Sheriff’s deputies on the verdict, with large odds in favor of a disagreement.
It was afternoon when it was announced that the jury was coming in. The reporters took their places and were all attention; the judge and lawyers were in their seats; the crowd swayed and pushed in eager expectancy, as the jury walked in and stood up in silence.
Judge. “Gentlemen, have you agreed upon your verdict?”
Foreman. “We have.”
Judge. “What is it?”
Foreman. “NOT GUILTY.”
A shout went up from the entire room and a tumult of cheering which the court in vain attempted to quell. For a few moments all order was lost. The spectators crowded within the bar and surrounded Laura who, calmer than anyone else, was supporting her aged mother, who had almost fainted from excess of joy.
And now occurred one of those beautiful incidents which no fiction-writer would dare to imagine, a scene of touching pathos, creditable to our fallen humanity. In the eyes of the women of the audience Mr. Braham
