Suddenly, it was all too much. Jay 7 was furious with the old electronic shyster. He was on his feet, shaking hands, white knuckled, gripping bars.
"Oh?" inquired Mr. Boswell, mildly. "Enough is enough, eh? But how can we be sure that alternatives...."
"All right, all right." Jay 7 wouldn't get anything out of him by shouting, he knew that. He was still tense and shaking but he managed to lower his voice to a tense, confidential whisper of appeal. "But I can't take much more of this. And the uncertainty. I've got to know. How much longer, huh? Please, please, Mr. Boswell, man to man ... when will the trial come? How much longer before we go to court, I—we—get my acquital, huh? Man to man, when can I walk out of here a free man?"
"Man to man? You are just a boy, boy. Show it all the time. Man to man? Well ... perhaps it is time you did grow up a bit. So. You want to know when you will leave here a free man? I'll tell you. Never."
"Never?!?"
"Never. Hasn't that been obvious from the start? Look. You know the charges, the evidence against you. In your actions, in your mind, either way you are guilty, boy. Regardless of the degree, you are guilty. The evidence is undeniable. You know better than I how guilty you are."