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A dead silence fell upon the court when Facey drew his case to a close and resumed his seat. Nothing could be heard but the scratching of Pickthorn’s pen and the reverberating growl of the blow-hole as it fretted and fumed within for the screaming blast which was soon to follow. Casement rammed his hands deeper into his pockets, gnawed his tawny mustache, and protruded his chin. At last, with a start, he awoke from his reverie, and barked out:

“Mr. Sennett, as the youngest member, it is for you to speak first.”

“I think he’s guilty, sir,” said Sennett.

Casement turned his quick glance on Roche.

“Same here,” said the doctor.

“The finding of the court,” said the captain after another pause, “is that the prisoner Billy is guilty of the murder of T. H.—what’s his name?—Biggar, at Sunflower Bay, on the blank day of September, 1888, and is condemned to be shot as an example to the island. Sentence to be deferred until I get the ship back from New Ireland, where I’ve to look into that Carbutt business and the outrage at MacCarthy’s Inlet, on the chance of the prisoner making a further confession and implicating others in his crime. The court is dismissed.”