The sidewalks were filled with pedestrians, whose steps were all bent in one direction--toward the town hall.
As our travellers drew up before the front of the building, the duke alighted and beckoned to a bailiff to come and clear the way for his passage into the court-room.
The officer hurried to the duke, and using his official authority, soon made a narrow path through the dense crowd that choked up every avenue into the edifice.
So, elbowing, pushing and wedging his way, the bailiff led the duke into the court-room, which was even more closely packed than the ante-rooms.
Pressing through this solid mass of human beings, the bailiff led him to a seat directly in front of the bench of judges, and there left him.
The duke bowed to the Bench, sat down and looked around upon the strange and painful scene.
The famous Scotch judge, Baron Stairs, presided.

On his right and left sat Mr.Justice Kinloch and Mr.Justice Guthrie.
Quite a large number of lawyers, law officers, and writers to the seal were present.
Mr.James Stuart, Q.C., was the prosecutor on the part of the crown.

He was assisted by Messrs.

Roy and McIntosh.
Mr.Keir and Mr.Gordon, two rising young barristers from Aberdeen, were counsel for the prisoner.
John Potts, alias Peters, the accused man, stood alone in the prisoner's dock.
He was a tall, gaunt, dark man, whose pallid face looked ghastly in contrast with his damp, lank, black hair, that seemed pasted to his cheeks by the thick perspiration, and with his black coat and pantaloons that hung loosely on his emaciated form.
The young duke thought he had never seen a man so much broken down in so short a time.
While the duke was looking at him, the poor wretch turned caught his eye and bowed.

And then he quickly grasped the front railing of the dock with both his hands, as if to keep himself from falling.
The young duke turned away his eyes.