She had entered it for the last time with courage enough; but it was the wrong kind of courage; and, for the one supreme moment, sentence of life was harder to bear than sentence of death.
In a few minutes the court was empty--a singular little theatre of pale varnish and tawdry hangings, still rather snug and homely in the heat and light of its obsolete gas, and with as little to remind one of the play as any other theatre when the curtain is down and the house empty.
But there was clamor in the corridors, and hooting already in the street.

Nor was the house really empty after all.

One white-haired gentleman had not left his place when an attendant returned to put out the lights.

The attendant pointed him out to a constable at the door; both watched him a few moments.

Then the attendant stepped down and touched him on the shoulder.
The gentleman turned slowly without a start.