And thus it was that these two men now found themselves in the dock with
twelve serious-minded tradesmen sitting in solemn conclave to consider
their crimes.

The trial itself was a ridiculous farce. Jacob Myers, who would have been
the one witness of any importance, was not subpoenaed; he had in fact
discreetly quitted the country under his wife's escort. The police, with
imperturbable gravity, brought ginger-beer bottles into court which had
been found in O'Flynn's apartment, and which, they averred, could be
converted into very formidable weapons of offence. Many gaseous speeches
made by the prisoners, or attributed to them, were solemnly brought up
against them, and a shudder ran through the court at the mention of such
phrases as "wholesale assassination" and "war to the death."

The evidence, however, sufficed to impress the jury with the extreme
gravity of the case and to alarm the public, and the prisoners were found
guilty.

I well recollect the last day of the trial, which I attended throughout
in more or less remote regions of the Old Bailey, recruiting recalcitrant
witnesses, sending food in to the defendants, &c. Two other cases were
being tried at the same time, one of which was a particularly revolting
murder, for which three persons were on trial. The prisoners' relatives
were waiting below in a state of painful excitement. "Guilty or not
guilty," was on all their lips, "release or penal servitude, life or
death, which was it to be?" Friends were constantly running in and out of
the court giving the women news of the progress of the trials. "It is
looking black for the prisoners!" "There is more hope!" "There is no
hope!" and finally "guilty" in all the cases was reported. The wife of a