"Oh, come, governor," said Lydia. "This from you!" "I don't know what you mean. I never offered a man a bribe in all my life," said the governor earnestly. "And exactly what did you say to Mr. O'Bannon in your recent interview?" Wiley and Albee protested, more as if she were breaking the rules of a game than as if she were saying anything contrary to fact. Albee explained at some length that when a man was behaving wrongly through self-interest--which was, of course, what the district attorney was doing--it was perfectly permissible to show him that self-interest might lie along opposite lines. Lydia, unconvinced by this explanation, would do nothing but laugh annoyingly. At this both men turned on her, explaining that if the bracelet could be got in evidence, if it could be shown that she had bribed the man whom she later killed, the case would go against her. "Oh, but they can't get it in," said Albee, "not unless you fall asleep, counselor, or the district attorney is an out-and-out crook." Wiley, more cautious, wasn't so sure. If Lydia herself took the stand---- "Of course I shall testify in my own behalf," said Lydia. "Yes," said Albee. "Exhibit A--a beautiful woman. Verdict--not guilty." So the discussion always came back to the sympathy of the jury--the necessity of selecting the right twelve men. Nothing else was talked of during luncheon at Eleanor's that first day. Was Number 6 hostile? Did all farmers own automobiles nowadays? Number 1 was susceptible, Miss Bennett felt sure. He hadn't taken his eyes off Lydia. Number 7, on the contrary, was hypnotized, according to Lydia, by "that man." By three o'clock the jury was declared satisfactory to the prosecution. It was Wiley's turn. His manner was very different from O'Bannon's--more conciliating. He seemed to woo the jury with what Lydia described in her own mind as a perfumed voice. Number 2, in answer to Wiley's questions, admitted a prejudice against automobiles, since it was now impossible to drive his cows home along the highroad. He was excused. Number 7, who had once owned a flourishing poultry farm, had been obliged to give it up. "On account of motors?" "Yes, and because it didn't pay." Did he feel his prejudice was such as to prevent his rendering an impartial verdict in this case? Number 7 looked blank and sulky, like a little boy stumped in class, and at last said it wouldn't. "Excused," said Wiley. "But I said it wouldn't," Number 7 protested. "Excused," said Wiley, fluttering his hand. Lydia had tapped twice on the table--the agreed signal.