hed with Dumeny and Dumeny's relations
with Mrs. Clarke, Dion felt very anxious about the verdict. The Judge
had not succeeded in making him believe that Mrs. Clarke was a guilty
woman, but he feared that the jury had been made doubtful. It was
evident to him that the Judge had a bad opinion of Dumeny, and had
conveyed his opinion to the jury. Was the unwisdom of Mrs. Clarke to
prove her undoing? Esme Darlington was pulling his ducal beard almost
nervously. A faint hum went through the densely packed court. Mrs.
Chetwinde moved and used her fan for a moment. Dion did not dare to look
at Guy Daventry. He was realizing, with a sort of painful sharpness, how
great a change a verdict against Mrs. Clarke must make in her life.
Her boy, perhaps, probably indeed, would be taken from her. She had only
spoken to him casually about her boy, but he had felt that the casual
reference did not mean that she had a careless heart. The woman whose
hand had held his for a moment would be tenacious in love. He felt sure
of that, and sure that she loved her naughty boy with a strong vitality.
When the Judge had finished his task and the jury retired to consider
their verdict, it was past four o'clock.
"What do you think?" Dion said in a low voice to Mrs. Chetwinde.
"About the summing-up?"
"Yes."
"It has left things very much as I expected. Any danger there is lies in
Monsieur Dumeny."
"Do you know him?"
"Oh, yes. I stayed with Cynthia once in Constantinople. He took us
about."
She made no further comment on Monsieur Dumeny.
"I wonder whether the jury will be away long?" Dion said, after a
moment.
"Probably. I shan't be at all surprised if they can't agree. Then there
will be another trial."
"How appalling!"
"Yes, it wouldn't be very nice for Cynthia."
"I can't help wishing----"
He paused, hesitating.
"Yes?" said Mrs. Chetwinde, looking about the court.
"I can't help wishing Mrs. Clarke hadn't been unconventional in quite
such a public way."
A faint smile dawned and faded on Mrs. Chetwinde's lips and in her pale
eyes.
"The public method's often the safest in the end," she murmured.
Then she nodded to Esme Darlington, who presently got up and managed to
make his way to them. He, too, thought the jury would probably disagree,
and considered the summing-up rather unfavorable to Mrs. Clarke.
"People who live in the diplomatic world live in a whispering gallery,"
he said, bending down, speaking i
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