He argued reasonably enough, that in consequence of that very delay he must necessarily have friends among them who would hold out to the last.

The state of suspense, however, in which he was held must have been, and was, dreadful.

His lips and throat became parched by excitement, and he was obliged to drink three or four glasses of water.
Being unable to stand, he was accommodated with a chair, on which, while he sat, the perspiration flowed from his pallid face.

Yet, with the exception of his own clique, there was scarcely an individual present who did not hope that this trial would put an end to his career of blood.

After all, there was something of the retributive justice of Providence even in the conduct and feelings of the jury; for, in point of fact, it was more on account of his private crimes and private infamy that they, however wrongly, brought in their verdict.