stryver fitted the prisoner's case on the jury, like a compact suit of clothes; showing them how the patriot, barsad, was a hired spy and traitor, an unblushing trafficker in blood, and one of the greatest scoundrels upon earth since accursed judas which he certainly did look rather like. how the virtuous servant, cly, was his friend and partner, and was worthy to be; how the watchful eyes of those forgers and false swearers had rested on the prisoner as a victim, because some family affairs in france, he being of french extraction, did require his making those passages across the channel though what those affairs were, a consideration for others who were near and dear to him, forbade him, even for his life, to disclose. how the evidence that had been warped and wrested from the young lady, whose anguish in giving it they had witnessed, came to nothing, involving the mere little innocent gallantries and politenesses likely to pass between any young gentleman and young lady so thrown together; with the exception of that reference to george washington, which was altogether too extravagant and impossible to be regarded in any other light than as a monstrous joke.