Shortly after the holidays he was served with a notice to appear and be examined as to his fitness to serve as juror in the case of the State vs. James W. Hildebrand. Now, he had made all his arrangements for a trip to California. In fact, he planned to leave New York on the twenty-first of January, and here he was being called into court on the twentieth. Something told him that the presiding justice was sure to be one of those who had witnessed one or more of his escapes from service on previous occasions, and that the honourable gentleman in the long black gown would smile sadly and shake his head if he protested that he was obliged to get off because he had to go to California for his health. The stupidest judge on earth would know at a glance that Sampson didn't have to go anywhere for his health. He really had more of it than was good for him. If he hadn't been so healthy he might have relished an occasional fortnight of indolence in a drowsy, stuffy, little court-room with absolutely nothing to do but to look at the clock and wonder, with the rest of the jurors, how on earth the judge contrived to wake up from a sound sleep whenever a point came up for decision and always to settle it so firmly, so confidently, so promptly that even the lawyers were fooled into believing that he had been awake all the time. Sampson entered the little court-room at 9:50 o'clock on the morning of the twentieth. He was never to forget the morning of the twentieth. Fifteen or twenty uneasy, sour-faced men, of all ages, sizes and condition sat outside the railing, trying to look unconcerned. They couldn't fool him. He knew what they were and he knew that in the soul of each lurked the selfish, cruel prayer that twelve men would be snatched from among them and stuffed into the jury box to stay before the clerk could draw his own dreaded name from the little box at his elbow. Other men came in and shuffled into chairs. The deputy clerk of the court emerged from somewhere and began fussing with the papers on his desk. Every man there envied him. He had a nice job, and he looked as though he rather liked being connected with an inhuman enterprise. He was immune. He was like the man who already has had smallpox. Lazy court attendants in well-worn uniforms ambled about freely. They too were envied. They were thoroughly court-broken. A couple of blithe, alert looking young men from the district attorney's office came and, with their hands in their pockets, stared blandly at the waiting group, very much as the judges at a live-stock show stare at the prize pigs, sheep and cattle. They seemed to be appraising the supply on hand and, to judge by their manner, they were not at all favourably impressed with the material. Indeed, they looked unmistakably annoyed. It was bad enough to have to select a jury in any event, but to have to select one from _this_ collection of ignoramuses was--well, it was _too_ much!