For a month before the trial, or whenever it may be that the jury has been drawn, every member upon the panel has been subjected to an unseen inquisitorial process. The prosecutor, through his own or through hired sleuths, has studied with microscopic care the family history, the business standing and methods, the financial responsibility, the political and social affiliations, and the personal habits and “past performances” of each and every talesman. When at the beginning of the trial they, one by one, take the witness-chair (on what is called the _voir dire_) to subject themselves to an examination by both sides as to their fitness to serve as jurors in the case, the district attorney probably has close at hand a rather detailed account of each, and perchance has great difficulty in restraining a smile when some prospective juror, in his eagerness either to serve or to escape, deliberately equivocates in answer to an important question as to his personal history. “Are you acquainted with the accused or his family?” mildly inquires the assistant prosecutor. “No—not at all,” the talesman may blandly reply. The answer, perhaps, is literally true, and yet the prosecutor may be pardoned for murmuring “Liar!” to himself as he sees that his memorandum concerning the juror’s qualifications states that he belongs to the same “lodge” with the prisoner’s uncle by marriage and carries an open account on his books with the defendant’s father. “I think we will excuse Mr. Ananias,” politely remarks the prosecutor; then in an undertone he turns to his chief and mutters: “The old rascal! He would have knifed us into a thousand pieces if we’d given him the chance!” And all this time the disgruntled Mr. Ananias is wondering why, if he _didn’t_ “know the defendant or his family,” he was not accepted as a juror. Of course, every district attorney has, or should have, pretty good information as to each talesman’s actual capabilities as a juror and something of a record as to how he has acted under fire. If he is a member of the “special” panel, it is easy to find out whether he has ever acquitted or convicted in any _cause celèbre_, and if he has acquitted any plainly guilty defendant in the past it is not likely that his services will be required. If, however, he has convicted in such a case the district attorney may try to lure the other side into accepting him by making it appear that he himself is doubtful as to the juror’s desirability. Sometimes persons accused of crime themselves, and actually under indictment, find their way onto the panels, and more than one ex-convict has appeared there in some inexplicable fashion. But to find them out may well require a double shift of men working day and night for a month before the case is called, and what may appear to be the most trivial fact thus discovered may in the end prove the decisive argument for or against accepting the juror.