Annandale sauntered away. Into adjacent corridors the great room emptied itself.
Orr, stationing associates on guard, went over to Sylvia, urging her to go.
But Sylvia refused at first to budge. The jury, she declared, would be back in five minutes.
“It may be five hours,” said Orr. “You had far better go home. No? Well then I will take you to my offices and have something brought in.”
“Is it far?” Sylvia warily asked. But presently she assented, stipulating however that Annandale should be brought there the moment he was freed.
Orr tossed his head. “That may not be for years, until after an appeal. I have not an idea what the jury will do. But I know one thing: the last of the lot, the twelfth, looked at me during my summing up with something that was a cross between a sneer and a scowl.”