Chief Stewart resumed the stand briefly to add a few more passages of the Brockton interrogatory that he had previously omitted. There followed a discussion about the admission as evidence of the books found in Sacco’s house and whether they should be translated. Finally both sides agreed to let them in as they were, Moore remarking that the titles spoke for themselves. Shortly after lunch both sides rested. There was a pause, a rustle in the courtroom, as the lawyers gathered up their documents and the spectators eyed Judge Thayer. He cleared his throat, looked dryly at Moore, then turned to the jury. “Well, gentlemen,” he said in his toneless voice, “the book of fate in these cases has been closed. You will undoubtedly get these cases for final determination Thursday forenoon, or Thursday morning. During your absence quite a number of things have been settled between counsel, one of which is that arguments will be made tomorrow, beginning at nine o’clock. It has been agreed that four hours shall be given to each side—that is four hours for the defendants and four hours for the Commonwealth. They may run a little over that time. “I must again suggest to you to still keep your minds open. The evidence has simply closed now. You have not heard the arguments of both counsel. You have not heard the charge of the Court. You must hear what the law is of the Commonwealth in order that you may apply the law to established facts found by you to be true, and therefore with this request, which is kindly made by the Court, I trust you will do what you can to see to it that it is fully carried into effect.” Edmund Morgan, in his study of the trial published in 1948, considered it an act of incomprehensible folly for the defense to agree to any such four-hour limitation. But in agreeing to the limitation, Moore and the McAnarneys were from long practical experience aware of the dangers of taxing a jury’s patience. Jurymen who had already sat through thirty uncomfortable days of testimony might react against an argument running several days. Besides, it was common bar knowledge that by the time the summations were reached, a jury, despite any judge’s hortatory injunctions, had pretty well made up its collective mind. Moore and Jerry McAnarney agreed to divide their allotted morning, with Moore appearing first. But the ingenious and aggressive general counsel of the I.W.W., the victor of so many underdog courtroom battles, was that Wednesday morning like a speaker who has lost rapport with his audience. He rambled. The telling points escaped him. Jerry McAnarney, tripping over his grammar, made a far better follow-up.