“Certainly. Up to this moment, I've had no difficulty in hearing you. It isn't necessary to shout, either. I'm not deaf.”
“Now, let me talk,” went on the foreman. “Keep still a minute, you fellers. Mr. Sampson is a gentleman. He's got as much sense, I suppose, as any of us. He—”
“Thanks,” said Sampson.
“Well, here we are, 'leven to one. You admit that your sympathies are with the old man, same as the rest of us. You say you'd sooner be shot than to send him up. Well, now let's—wait a minute, Hooper! I'm talking. Let's talk this thing over as friends. I apologise for what I said just after supper. You've got a right to be pig-headed. You've got a legal right to hang this jury. But is it right and fair? If 'leven of us are willing to go on record as—er—as putting credence in the testimony of Mr. Hildebrand, I can't see why you're afraid to come in with us. Down in your soul you don't think he's guilty. You say that maybe he is shielding some one else. If that's the way you feel, why not come out like a man and give the poor old lad the benefit of the doubt? Lord knows I'm a hard man. I don't want to see any guilty man escape. I believe in putting 'em where they belong, and keeping 'em there. By Gosh, nobody dares to say to my face that I'm easy on criminals. I'm as hard as nails. My wife says I'm as hard as all get-out. And she ought to know. She's heard me talk about crime here in New York for nearly fifteen years, and she knows how I feel. Well, if I am willing to give the old man a chance, it ought to stand for something, oughtn't it? Hard as I am? Just reason it out for yourself, Mr. Sampson. Now, we all agree that the evidence against him is pretty strong. But it is circumstantial. You said so yourself in the beginning. It was you who said that it was circumstantial. You said—just a minute, Hooper! You said that while everything pointed to him as the guilty man, nobody actually swore that he saw him take the money. On the other hand, he swears he didn't take it. He ought to know, oughtn't he? If he knows who did take it, why that's his business. I don't believe in squealers. I wouldn't have any mercy on a man who turned State's evidence to save himself. Well, now, supposing old man Hildebrand knows who got away with the stuff. He is too much of a man to squeal. We oughtn't to send him up just because he won't squeal on the man—a friend, for all we know—even though it might save him from going to the pen. I leave it to you, Mr. Sampson: ought we?”
“Of course we oughtn't,” broke in the irrepressible Mr. Hooper. “Any damn' fool ought to see that.”
Sampson eyed Mr. Hooper severely. “He's leaving it to me, Mr. Hooper; not to you.” He leaned a little closer, his eyes narrowing. “And, by the way, Mr. Hooper, before we go any farther, I should like to call your attention to several facts entirely separate and apart from this trial. It may interest you to know that I am six feet one in my stocking feet, that I weigh one hundred and ninety-five pounds, that I am just under thirty years of age, that I was one of the strongest men in college, and that up to a certain point I am, and always have been, one of the gentlest and best-natured individuals in the world.”
“What do you mean by that?” blustered No. 8.
“Gentlemen!” admonished the foreman. The automobile salesman stopped picking his teeth.
“I am merely trying to convince you, Mr. Hooper, that there is a great deal more to be said for circumstantial evidence than you might think. You might go on forever thinking that I am a meek, spineless saphead, and on the other hand you might have it proved to you that I'm not. Please reflect on what I have just said. It can't do you any harm to reflect, Mr. Hooper.”
“Oh, piffle!” said Mr. Hooper, getting very red in the face.