"Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Let us talk this thing over quietly and calmly. Mr. Pushkin seems to have a wrong conception as to what constitutes evidence. Now, let me have the floor for a few minutes, and I'll try to explain to him what constitutes evidence." One hour and twenty minutes later Mr. Pushkin admitted that he DID have a wrong conception as to what constitutes evidence, but still maintained that he hated like sin to convict a man who had tried so hard to get work and couldn't. The non-smoking gentleman was one of the three who comprised the minority. He was a mild little chap with weak eyes and the sniffles. By profession he was a clock maker. He said he believed that the defendant was unquestionably guilty of bigamy and that the State had erred in charging him with burglary. He was perfectly willing to send the man up for bigamy because, according to the evidence, it took precedence over the crime alleged to have been committed in December, 1919. In other words, he explained, Smilk had committed bigamy some years prior to the burglary of Mr. Yollop's apartment and he believed in taking things in their regular order. Of course, he went on to say, he would be governed by the opinion of the judge if it were possible under the circumstances to obtain it. He did not think it would be legal to put the burglary charge ahead of the bigamy charge, but if the judge so ordered he would submit, notwithstanding his conviction that it would be unconstitutional. Several gentlemen wanted to know what the constitution had to do with it, and he, becoming somewhat exasperated, declared that the present jury system is a joke, an absolute joke. "Well, it's just such men as you that make it a joke," growled Juror No. 12. "Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" admonished the foreman. "Let us have no recriminations, please. It occurs to me that we ought to send a note to the court, asking for instructions on this point." The note was written and despatched in care of the glowering bailiff, who, it seems, had an engagement to go to the movies that evening and couldn't believe his ears when he ascertained that the boobs had not yet agreed upon a verdict in what he regarded as the clearest case that had ever come under his notice. In the meantime, the third juror explained his vote for acquittal. He was a large, heavy-jowled man with sandy mustache and a vacancy among his upper teeth into which a pipe-stem fitted neatly. He was the superintendent of an apartment building in Lenox Avenue.