owing to any foolish scruples about hanging a possibly--nay,
probably--innocent man along with them, a shout of rage would
ascend from that virtuous nation amongst whom Charlotte Winsor, the
professional infant-murderess, walks a free woman, notwithstanding a
jury's verdict of wilful murder and a judge's sentence of death.

So, for a time it seemed that, notwithstanding the verdict of the
reporters, the government would act upon the verdict of the jury, and
assume it to be correct. No doubt Maguire might be innocent, but it
was his misfortune to be included in an indivisible verdict with other
men, who, though perhaps as guiltless as he of wilful murder, were
surely guilty of riot and rescue, aggravated by the utterance of the
most bitter reflections on the British Constitution, which all men
know to be the "envy of surrounding nations." If they were not guilty
of the crime laid against them on the trial, they were guilty of
something else--they had outraged British pride. It was necessary they
should die; and as Maguire's verdict was not separate from theirs, he
must die too, rather than that they should escape.

But after a while the idea gained ground in England that this would
be rather _too_ monstrous a proceeding. Maguire's utter innocence of
any participation whatsoever in the rescue was too notorious. The
character of the witnesses on whose evidence he was convicted became
known: some were thieves, pickpockets, or gaol-birds of some other
denomination; others were persons palpably confused by panic,
excitement, passion, or prejudice. True, these same witnesses were
those who likewise swore against Allen, Larkin, O'Brien and Shore.
Indeed, a greater number swore against Maguire than against some of
the others. Nevertheless, the overwhelming notoriety of the jury's
blunder or perjury, in at least his case, became daily more and more