An ending.
The quiet chatter ceased, as the prisoner, chaplain and prison governor walked in, the chaplain muttering prayers from a bible. The prisoner with his hands tied before him, was shown to the trapdoor. He had to be led into place. He seemed reluctant to stand there, as if there was another appeal about to interrupt the proceedings. His face was impassive.
The hangman, in his prison guard uniform, stepped up next to the condemned man. He offered the man a hood, but the prisoner refused. The hangman then placed the noose around the man's neck. All the officials stepped back. There was a pause as the hangman received a nod from the prison governor. The executioner pulled the handle, and then the condemned man dropped like a stone. The rope pulled taut and life very quickly left Murdoch Foyle.
…
From the viewing platform, Jack Robinson could see all. He deliberately refused breakfast from his new housekeeper Alice, who was anxious to make a good impression. Never the less, felt a wave of nausea. He closed his eyes and felt like he was swaying, as a trickle of sweat went down his back.
A hand clapped onto his shoulder bought him back to his surroundings. "Hey Jack, Looking a bit green around the gills there!"
"Need air!" was Jack's response as they made their way out of the viewing chamber. Thankfully the corridors of the old bluestone jail were as cold and draughty as ever. He leant against the cold stones, thankful that they were holding him up. The sweat on his back dried quickly enough to feel like a chill and he shivered.
"Are you feeling all right?" Greg Bryson was looking at him. "I've never seen you turn that colour before!"
"Just glad it's all over" said Jack taking a deep breath. "I normally never come to these things. I saw enough death during the war."
Greg had also seen death in the trenches agreed with him. "I know prosecuting officer has the right to attend, but you didn't have to be here. The Police Surgeon will give the pronouncement any time now."
At that stage, the Police Surgeon did appear in the hallway. I have pronounced Murdoch Foyle dead" he said. "May his soul rest where ever it lands!" The Police Surgeon was not a religious man!
Jack looked at his watch. If he timed his day right, he could go back to the station, get paperwork done and then visit a certain household after lunch. Having news to deliver gave him no excuse to back out of a conversation he was avoiding.