Marriott eked out his precious peremptory challenges for three days; venire after venire was issued, and Bentley was happy, for all this meant fees. The crowd diminished. The lawyers grew weary and no longer exerted themselves to say clever things. The sky, which had sparkled a cold, frosty blue for days, was overcast with gray clouds, the atmosphere was saturated with a chill and penetrating moisture. This atmosphere affected men strangely. Eades and Marriott had a dispute, Danner ordered Archie to sit erect, Glassford sharply rebuked two citizens who did not believe in capital punishment for their lack of a sense of civic duty; then he whirled about in his chair and exclaimed angrily: "We’ll not adjourn to-night until we have a jury!" Marriott had one peremptory challenge left, and eleven men had been accepted. It was now a matter of luck. "George Holden," called the clerk. A broad-shouldered man of medium height came promptly forward, took the oath, leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, folded his strong hands in his lap, and raised a pair of deep blue eyes to Eades. As he sat there, something in the poise of his fine head, with its thick curly hair, claimed attention; interest revived; every one looked at him. He had a smooth-shaven face and a wide white brow, and the collar of his dark flannel shirt was open, freeing his strong neck and ample throat. Marriott suddenly conceived a liking for the man. "What is your occupation, Mr. Holden?" asked Eades. "Machinist." He had read the newspaper accounts of the murder of Kouka and of the Flanagan tragedy, but he had not formed any real opinions; he may have formed impressions, but he could lay them aside; he didn’t go much anyway, he said, on what he read in the newspapers. The formal questions were put and answered to Eades’s satisfaction; then came the real question: "Are you opposed to capital punishment?" "Yes, sir, I am." "Are your scruples conscientious ones?" "Yes, sir." "And not to be overcome?" "They are not to be overcome." Just then Glassford, impatient of all these scruples he was hearing so much about, whirled on Holden with a scowl. Holden turned; his blue eyes met those of Glassford. "You don’t want to sit on this jury, do you?" demanded Glassford. "No, sir." "It would interfere with your business, wouldn’t it?" "No, sir." "It wouldn’t? You earn good wages, don’t you?" "I’m out of a job now, sir." "Well, are your scruples such that you can’t lay them aside long enough to do your duty as a citizen?" Holden flushed. "I can’t lay them aside, no; but it doesn’t follow that I can’t do my duty as a citizen." "But," began Glassford in his tone of legal argument, "assuming that the law as it is should be altered, nevertheless, knowing the law, can you lay aside your private views and perform a public duty by applying this law to a given state of facts as the court instructs you?--You understand me, do you?" "I understand perfectly, sir."