The hush of the court, which had been broken when the foreman of
the jury returned their verdict, was intensified as the Judge, with
a quick glance over his pince-nez at the tall prisoner, marshalled
his papers with the precision and method which old men display in
tense moments such as these. He gathered them together, white paper
and blue and buff and stacked them in a neat heap on a tiny ledge
to the left of his desk. Then he took his pen and wrote a few words
on a printed paper before him. Another breathless pause and he
groped beneath the desk and brought out a small square of black
silk and carefully laid it over his white wig. Then he spoke:
"James Meredith, you have been convicted after a long and patient
trial of the awful crime of wilful murder. With the verdict of the
jury I am in complete agreement. There is little doubt, after
hearing the evidence of the unfortunate lady to whom you were
engaged, and whose evidence you attempted in the most brutal manner
to refute, that, instigated by your jealousy, you shot Ferdinand
Bulford.
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