"We have, your honor."
A folded note was handed to the judge. He read it slowly, with an
inscrutable face.
"Is this your verdict, gentlemen of the jury?"
"It is, your honor."
Silence, full and rigid, held the room after the words "Not guilty" had
fallen from the lips of the judge. The stillness was broken by a shock as
of an electric bolt from heaven.
The exploding echoes of a pistol-shot reverberated. Men sprang wildly to
their feet, gazing at each other in the distrust that fear generates. But
one man was beyond being startled by any more earthly sounds. His head fell
forward on the table in front of him, and a thin stream of blood flowed
from his lips. It was Simon Harley, found guilty, sentenced, and executed
by the judge and jury sitting in the outraged, insane heart of the woman he
had made a widow.
Mrs. Edwards had shot him through the head with a revolver she had carried
in her shoppingbag to exact vengeance in the event of a miscarriage of
justice.
CHAPTER 23. ALINE TURNS A CORNER
Aline might have been completely prostrated by the news of her husband's
sudden end, coming as it did as the culmination of a week of strain and
horror.
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