Let us take here a little detour, something of a parergon, from our principal tale, which is, after all a diversion from another, much greater account, yet each tiny sentence, each clause, perhaps each single word, or even syllable indeed each proud letter adds to the sum of the whole which is greater by far than it's varied and various constituent parts. so word then of William Scroggs, universally known as Butcher Bill, a frumious Chief Justice who liked nothing better than to don his Black Cap – actually just a square of silk perched atop his Judge's Wig – and deliver Death Sentences on the accused; renowned as a coarse and corrupt man, an unapologetic misogynist who believed that a woman's place was beneath him in every aspect of life – in Court or the Bawdy Houses he frequented – in or out of Court he pursued his quarry with the same determination as a hunter follows his prey through the veldt and was recognised in the lowest drinking dens of the City; but in the Popish Plot Case of Dr Wakeman and his co-accused, he inexplicably treated the men who stood in the Dock with an unusual degree of courtesy and respect, particularly as they were Catholics, whom he hated with a passion, and so too the witnesses for the Defence, especially Ellen Rigby (not to be confused with Eleanor Rigby, although they both had the same, or similar, calling in life) the housekeeper to the Benedictine order in London over whom it was felt by many in the Court that he positively fawned, flirted, flattered and was far more exceedingly polite and pleasant towards than he had ever been even to his own Wife! and when the jurors asked if they could find the accused guilty of Misprision of Treason which is to say, Knowing about something but doing nothing to prevent it, Scroggs told them that was not what they were charged with, ensuring they would be acquitted, yet after th trial he told many people that he believed that there was a Plot but that those defendants were not involved in it – and this after sending many palpably innocent people to the gallows on the same evidence dreamed up by Oates and Tonge and their Merry Band of Fabricators (oh! there's nuthin' New 'bout Fake News!); and this seeming catastrophe for the Plotters and eucatastrophe for the Innocents, didn't turn out quite that way; when the Verdict was made known, crowds beseiged the homes of the Jurors, many of whom had to flee for their lives, because the Public were all behind Oates and his Merry Men who were living well and making a good earning out of it all – Blind Justice is capable of two interpretations!