AT THE end of a hearing which in the judge's words was not marked by "economies of scale", it was always likely that the jury would take time to find a verdict.
When he rose for lunch yesterday, Mr Justice Moriarty found himself apologising yet again for slow progress, but this time he himself was the culprit. The illness of a juror had caused a short delay, but from a judge whose eloquence is matched only by his attention to detail, the estimate of two hours for summation had always seemed slightly optimistic.
Nevertheless, when he finally sent the nine women and three men out at 3.19 p.m., few expected a long wait. But friends of Mr De Rossa and Mr Dunphy who had gathered for the denouement found themselves on a long day's journey into night.
The first of a number of flurries of excitement came shortly after 5.30 p.m., when the jurors returned with two questions for the judge. About an hour later, the doors of the round hall were closed by gardai because of a protest being staged outside. Sealed within, the vigil keepers continued to circulate in the gathering gloom and as the evening ground on, the round hall began to look like the Peruvian Embassy in Lima, with weary supporters sitting heads in hands and even senior counsel sprawling on courtroom steps.
The kick off of the Manchester United Porto match came and went, demolishing a popular theory that it would prove a deadline for the jurors. Then an order for sandwiches put paid to hopes of an early verdict. State coffers do not extend to buying food for jurors in civil actions, so after a brief legal argument the £34 bill was split evenly between plaintiff and defence. The presence of only three men on the jury did weaken this theory a little, though some of the more optimistic observers thought they saw signs of Manchester United support in the faces of some female jurors.
By eight o clock, however, it was obvious that the jury's deliberations were heading into extra time.
In a light moment during his summary, Mr Justice Moriarty quoted a source who said defamation cases had taken the place of feuds in settling matters of honour. He hastened to say he was not raising the spectre of "Mr De Rossa and Mr Dunphy proceeding to the Phoenix Park". But as the night proceed on, the idea had its attractions.
Pistols at 20 paces might be a crude remedy, but at least it's quick.
All day yesterday the main protagonists in the drama sat within a couple of paces of each other, albeit on different benches. Once, after lunch, their spatial relationship threatened to become more intimate, when the most obvious available seat for Mr De Rossa was beside Mr Dunphy. The former glanced at the space and the latter moved to let him in. But the moment of potential drama passed, as did Mr De Rossa.
