"Well, I'll give you until to-morrow," says the judge. "You must be ready then."
"People against Smith?" he continues.
Both sides happen to be ready in this case.
"People against McCord?"
"Defendant's going to plead," says the assistant.
"People against Vermicelli?"
"We expect to make a recommendation in that case, your Honor," announces the assistant,—and so it goes until fifteen or twenty cases have been marked "Ready" or "Passed for the day" or adjourned to let the defendant get his witnesses or, in point of fact, for the lawyer to extract his fee.
The clerk then calls the roll of the jury, and after the rush which ensues to present excuses to the effect that the talesman's health or business is in a precarious condition, the court settles gradually down to its routine work.
A jury is empanelled and a lank, seedy-looking youth takes his seat at the bar between a spruce, bald-headed little man and a court officer. He is charged with having "policy-slips in his possession."
So far "O.C.," our juror, has been impressed with the business-like and cheerful manner in which the proceedings have been conducted. Most of the lawyers, instead of clamoring for a trial for their languishing clients, have exerted all their efforts to secure delays. Then he learns to his surprise that the average length of time which elapses between a defendant's arrest for felony and his trial, unless the prisoner be out on bail, is less than one week.[27]