One of the prison guards with Thaw received word from his home that his little girl, who had been ill for several days, was dying. Thaw turned to him and expressed the greatest sympathy.
"You are in a worse predicament than I am," he said to the guard, "and I am very sorry."
When Justice Fitzgerald re-opened court the next morning he sent a bailiff to ask Foreman Smith if the jury had reached a verdict. "No, we have not," was the only reply.
At 11 a.m. the second day the jury sent word it would come into court for further instructions.
A moment later they filed in, headed by Deming B. Smith, their foreman. Nobody needed to be told that they had sat up all night. They looked it. The look of weariness and anxiety and sleepiness was all over them, but they did not look like men who were ready to quit. They looked like men who knew the gravity of their task and who were determined to discharge it properly if there was any way of doing it.
Justice Fitzgerald came in a moment later and as soon as he had taken his seat Clerk Penny advanced to the rail and said in the quiet manner he might use in asking for a glass of water: "Harry K. Thaw to the bar."
There was a brief delay, then the pen door opened and Thaw came in ahead of a prion keeper and took his place, smiling a trifle at his wife and mother.
