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Updated: June 4, 2025
Does it blind the eye of reason? Rather, does it not illumine and expose the fallacies of logic and the falsities of the syllogism? Do two and two make four in human polity as in mathematics? Sometimes it would not seem so. Certainly you would have picked Mr. Bently Gibson, of The Gibson Woolen Mills, as a model juror.
This indulgence was refused by the Court, and Hayden was constrained to accept the definition of another juror, whereby he was led to believe that the word in question has a much more serious significance than really attaches to it. By this means he had been induced to give his voice for the conviction of the defendant.
Yet the juror was undoubtedly right in his deduction. In a case where insanity is the defence, the State must dig up and have at hand every person it can find who knew the accused at any period of his career.
He went to the table, sat down and began to write. "Please be seated." Nekhludoff stood still. When he had made out the pass the prosecutor handed it to Nekhludoff and eyed him with curiosity. "I must also tell you," said Nekhludoff, "that I cannot continue to serve as juror." "As you know, satisfactory reasons must be given to the court in such cases."
At last a disagreement was formally entered, the jury discharged and the obstinate juror chased from the city by the maddened populace. Despairing of success in another trial and privately admitting his belief in the prisoner's innocence, the public prosecutor moved for his release, which the judge ordered with remarks plainly implying his own belief that the wrong man had been tried.
He would be out, and he would have two long months in which to make an additional fight. He was not down yet. He would win his liberty. This jury was all wrong. A higher court would say so. It would reverse their verdict, and he knew it. He turned to Steger, where the latter was having the clerk poll the jury, in the hope that some one juror had been over-persuaded, made to vote against his will.
But there was no response from the prisoner except a subdued chuckle. "Did this ring belong to you?" asked the Judge, severely, the jury and spectators craning their ears forward with an expectant smile already on their faces. But the prisoner's eyes only sparkled maliciously as he looked around the court. "Tell us, Joe," said a sympathetic and laughter-loving juror, under his breath.
"Well, kin savvy," replied the juror judicially. "Some o' the boys think it a leetle tough to hang a feller fer a thing he kain't remember and that he didn't never think was no harm. It don't look like the Greaser'd take any one right to where he would shore be convicted, ef he had of made this here killin'." "Well," said a conservative soothingly, "let's wait till to-morrer.
Martin sighed and slipped from the window ledge, shaking down his wrinkled, high-water pants. "Yes," he sighed, a sudden wistfulness coming into his rheumy eyes. "Things have been pretty slow around here. Chicago used to be the place for a juror none better. But I been thinkin' of going west. Not that I heard anything, mind you, about any of these cases." Mr. Martin glowered virtuously.
"Are ye drawed?" she asked. "Got the notice from Whitcomb right in my pocket. Grand juror. September term. 'T ain't more'n a week off." The staccato utterance was caused by the big mouthfuls of codfish and potato which, between phrases, Mr. Peaslee conveyed to his mouth. It was plain to see that he was greatly pleased with his new dignity. "What do they give ye for it?" asked his wife.
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