"Gentlemen, so long as we live in a society in which the vast majority of us can never be partakers of the hope with which we started out, so long must justice take account of the suffering of the poor muzzled brute that treadeth out the corn. If he goes frenzied and runs amuck, he cannot be judged by the standards which apply to him who has been left unmuzzled and free to satisfy his wants. It is not fair; it is not human. It is true that to protect your own interests you have the power to shoot him down; but when he lies dead at your feet, no more muzzled in death than he was in life, there is surely somewhere in the universe an avenging force that is on his side, and which will make you—you as representatives of the society which has placed its action in your hands—and you as twelve private individuals with duties and consciences—there is somewhere in the universe this avenging force which will require his blood at your hands and make you pay the penalty. Surely you can find a better use for that valuable asset, a young man’s life, than just to take it away. For the sake of the public whose honor is in your keeping, you must play the game squarely. For the sake of your own future peace of mind, you must not add your own crime to this poor boy’s misfortune. Your duty at this minute is not merely to interpret the dead letter of a law; it is to be the voice of the People whom you represent. Remember that by the verdict you bring in that People will be committed to the most destructive of all destructive acts, or it will get expression for that deep, human common sense which transcends written phrases to act in the spirit of the greatest of us all, judging not according to the appearance—not according to the appearance, gentlemen, and you remember who counseled that—but judging righteous judgment." He fell back into his seat, exhausted. He was so impressive and impassioned as to convince many of his hearers that he believed his own plea, while to some who had considered the verdict a certainty it was now in doubt. Among Teddy’s friends a hope arose that, in spite of all expectation to the contrary, he might be saved. Bob looked over and smiled. Teddy smiled back, but mainly because he rejoiced in what he felt to be his justification. He couldn’t see how they could convict him after such a setting forth as that, though for the consequences of acquittal he had so little heart. In the excitement of the courtroom, the judge’s voice, when he began to give the jury their instructions, fell like cool, quiet rain on thunderous sultriness. He was a small man, with a leathery, unemotional face, framed by an iron-gray wig of faultless side-parting and long, straight, unnaturally smooth hair. He had the faculty of seeming attentive without being influenced. Listening, reasoning, asking a question, or settling a disputed point, he gave the impression of having reduced intelligence to the soulless accuracy of a cash register.