Morbid and determined, the spectators settled down to wait for the verdict.  The buzz of conversation was on every hand, and the air grew thick and heavy with tobacco smoke, while relaxed and at ease the crowd with its many pairs of eyes kept eager watch on the door before which Brockett kept guard.  No man in the room was wholly unaffected by the sinister significance of the deputy’s presence there, and the fat little man with his shiny bald head and stubby gray mustache, silent, preoccupied, taking no part in what was passing about him, became as the figure of fate.

The clock on the wall back of the judges desk ticked off the seconds; now it made itself heard in the hush that stole over the room, again its message was lost in the confusion of sounds, the scraping of feet or the hum of idle talk.  But whether the crowd was silent or noisy the clock performed its appointed task until its big gilt hands told whoever cared to look that the jury in the John North case had devoted three hours to its verdict and its dinner.

The atmosphere of the place had become more and more oppressive.  Men nodded sleepily in their chairs, conversation had almost ceased, when suddenly and without any apparent reason Brockett swung about on his heel and faced the locked door.  His whole expression betokened a feverish interest.  The effect of this was immediate.  A wave of suppressed excitement passed over the crowd; absolute silence followed; and then from beyond the door, and distinctly audible in the stillness, came the sound of a quick step on the uncarpeted floor.  The clock ticked twice, then a hand dealt the door a measured blow.

The moment of silence that followed this ominous signal was only broken when a deputy who had been nodding half asleep in his chair, sprang erect and hurried from the room.  As the swinging baize doors banged at his heels, the crowd seemed to breathe again.

Moxlow was the first to arrive.  The deputy had found him munching a sandwich on the court-house steps.  His entrance was unhurried and his manner quietly confident; he put aside his well-worn overcoat and took his seat at the counsel table.  A little ripple of respectful comment had greeted his appearance; this died away when the baize doors at the back of the room swung open again to admit North and the sheriff.

North’s face was white, but he wore a look of high courage.  He understood to the full the dreadful hazard of the next few moments.  With never a glance to the right or to the left, he crossed the room and took his seat; as he settled himself in his chair, Belknap hurried into court.

Judge Langham had not yet appeared, and the crowd focused its attention on the shut door leading into his private office.  Presently this door was seen to open slowly, and the judge’s spare erect figure paused on the threshold.  His eyes, sunken, yet brilliant with a strange light, shifted from side to side as he glanced over the room.