The prisoner clasped his hands together with sudden energy, and wrung them despairingly, at the same time appealing imploringly to the ‘King’ in broken and terrified phrases —
“O my lord the King, an’ thou canst pity the lost, have pity upon me! I am innocent — neither hath that wherewith I am charged been more than but lamely proved — yet I speak not of that; the judgment is gone forth against me and may not suffer alteration; yet in mine extremity I beg a boon, for my doom is more than I can bear.
A grace, a grace, my lord the King! in thy royal compassion grant my prayer — give commandment that I be hanged!”
Tom was amazed. This was not the outcome he had looked for.