Yes, it is Heaven's justice." Sim crept closer to Ralph, and trembled perceptibly.
"Men, hearken again," said Ralph.

"You know I've spoken up for Sim," and he put his great arm about the tailor's shoulders; "but you don't know that I have never asked him, and he has never said whether he is innocent or not.

The guilty man may be in this room, and he may not be Simeon Stagg.

But if he were my own brother--my own father--" Old Matthew's pipe had gone out; he was puffing at the dead shaft.

Sim rose up; his look of abject misery had given place to a look of defiance; he stamped on the floor.
"Let me go; let me go," he cried.
Robbie Anderson came up and took him by the hand; but Sim's brain seemed rent in twain, and in a burst of hysterical passion he fell back into his seat, and buried his head in his breast.
"He'll be hanged with the foulest collier yet," growled one of the men.