“I'll be perfectly honest, for one,” he said. “I thought and still think that she looked upon me as a friendly juror. Nothing wrong about it, mind you--not a thing. I wouldn't have you think that she deliberately--er--ahem! What have you to say, No. 7?” No. 7 blushed violently. “Not a word,” said he. “I profess to be a gentleman.” No. 8 snorted. “Well, then, act like one. Mr. Sampson's a gentleman. He don't hesitate to say that he was--Say, Mr. Sampson, just what did you say?” “I said, without the slightest desire to create a wrong impression, that I was deeply affected by the trust Miss Hildebrand appeared to place in me. She believes her grandfather to be innocent, and I think she believes that I agree with her. That's the long and the short of it.” No. 4 slammed his fist upon the table. “By thunder, that's just exactly the fix I'm in. Right from the start, I seemed to feel that I got on this jury because she liked the looks of me. Not the way you think, Hooper, but because I looked like a man who might give her grandfather a square trial and--” Mr. Hooper interrupted him hotly: “What do you mean by 'not the way you think'? That sounded kind of disparaging, my good man--disparaging to her. Explain yourself.” Sampson interposed. “I think we all understand each other, gentlemen. Miss Hildebrand practically picked the whole dozen of us. She inspected us as we came up, she sized us up, and she had the final word to say as to whether we were acceptable to the defence. She believed in us, or we wouldn't be here to-night. What makes it all the harder for us, gentlemen, individually and collectively, is that we believe in her. Now, what are we to do? Live up to her estimate of us, or live up to a prior estimate of ourselves?” “Well, let's sleep over it,” said the foreman uneasily. “I guess we're all tired and--” “I guess we won't sleep much,” broke in No. 7 miserably. “Damn' if you'll ever get me on a jury again. I'm a nervous man anyhow and now--I'm a wreck. I don't know what to do about this business.” “If it were not for Miss Hildebrand, gentlemen, we'd all know what to do,” said Sampson. “Isn't that a fact?” “Well, you seem to have made up your mind,” said No. 8 gloomily. “I thought mine was made up, but, by gosh, I--I want to do what's right. I took my oath to--” “We will take a ballot before breakfast in the morning,” said No. 1 decisively. “Now, let's sleep if we can.” They disposed themselves in chairs, stretched out their legs and--waited for an illuminating daybreak. Sampson's decision was final. He would not stultify his honour. He would not be swayed by the sweetest emotion that ever had assailed him. Besides, he argued through the long, tedious hours before dawn, when all was said and done, what could Alexandra Hildebrand ever be to him? She would go out of his life the day that--