He had never been quite bereft of hope, the consciousness of his own innocence had measurably sustained him in his darkest hours.

And now once more his imagination swept him beyond the present into the future; again he could believe that he was to pass from that room a free man to take his place in the world from which he had these many weary months been excluded.

There was no bitterness in his heart toward any one, even Moxlow's harsh denunciation of him was forgotten; the law through its bungling agents had laid its savage hands on him, that was all, and these agents had merely done what they conceived to be their duty.
He glanced toward the big clock on the wall above the judge's desk and saw that thirty minutes had already gone by since the jury retired.
Another half-hour passed while he studied the face of the clock, but the door of the jury room, near which Deputy-sheriff Brockett had taken up his station, still remained closed and no sound came from beyond it.

At his back he heard one man whisper to another that the jurymen's dinner had just been brought in from the hotel.
"That means another three quarters of an hour,--it's their last chance to get a square meal at the county's expense!" the speaker added, which earned him a neighboring ripple of laughter.
Judge Langham and Moxlow had withdrawn to the former's private room.
Sheriff Conklin touched North on the shoulder.
"I guess we'd better go back, John!" he said.

"If they want us to-night they can send for us." Morbid and determined, the spectators settled down to wait for the verdict.