"What is a man?"
The prospective juror, a Bronx appliance distributor with sagging jowls and perpetual tension lines around his mouth, started visibly.
"I—I beg your pardon?"
Again Jake Emspak gently phrased his question:
"What is a man?"
The distributor, who could wake up out of a sound sleep and address a sales meeting of unhappy dealers, opened his mouth and closed it again. Jake waited patiently, rocking a little on the point of his cane.
Finally, the distributor said:
"I can't answer that—right off...."
"Thank you," Jake said mildly.
He turned to Judge Hayward and nodded his acceptance of the juror.