In a word they were a precious pair of crooks, who for
their own petty selfish ends played fast and loose with liberty, life
and death.
Both of them hated Mr. Tutt, who had more than once made them ridiculous
before the jury and shown them up before the Court of Appeals, and the
old lawyer recognized well the fact that these two legal wolves were in
revenge planning to tear him and his helpless client to pieces, having
first deliberately selected him as a victim and assigned him to
officiate at a ceremony which, however just so far as its consummation
might be concerned, was nothing less in its conduct than judicial
murder. Now they were laughing at him in their sleeves, for Mr. Tutt
enjoyed the reputation of never having defended a client who had been
convicted of murder, and that spotless reputation was about to be
annihilated forever.
Though the defense had thirty peremptory challenges Mr. Tutt well knew
that Babson would sustain the prosecutor's objections for bias until the
jury box would contain the twelve automata personally selected by
O'Brien in advance from what Tutt called "the army of the gibbet." Yet
the old war horse outwardly maintained a calm and genial exterior,
betraying none of the apprehension which in fact existed beneath his
mask of professional composure. The court officer rapped sharply for
silence.
"Are you quite ready to proceed with the case?" inquired the judge with
a courtesy in which was ill concealed a leer of triumph.
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