Mr. Sheare became Juror Number Six. He was not asked if he believed in capital punishment, and he did not volunteer a statement of his belief. Mr. Sheare had been got to, and Johnny, watching Judge Shinn’s bland benignity, thought he knew by whom.
Elizabeth Sheare was excused as not qualifying, since she was acting as court stenographer.
Rebecca Hemus, Millie Pangman, Emily Berry, and Prue Plummer were selected in rapid succession as Jurors Number Seven, Eight, Nine, and Ten, and they took their seats behind the six men in the jury “box.”
There was some difficulty in getting Calvin Waters to understand what he was being called upon to do. In the course of his examination the conspirators managed to get into the record the town handyman’s having fallen on his head as a baby, his lifelong reputation for dull-wittedness, and the fact that he was barely able to write and could read only a few simple words. Hube Hemus looked uncomfortable, but he voiced no objection.
Calvin Waters was recorded as Juror Number Eleven and duly shuffled to the fifth chair in the second row of jurors, his empty face momentarily filled with bewilderment.
“Continue, Mr. Clerk.”
“Sarah Isbel.”
She was the only one left in the spectators’ section except Johnny and Usher Peague.
At the reading of her name, Sarah Isbel went white. Merton Isbel was gathering himself, his craggy features stormy. The woman jumped up and said faintly, “I can’t serve on any jury. I have my child to...” The rest went away with her. When the front door banged, Merton Isbel sat down again.
“A member of a panel may not arbitrarily refuse to serve on a jury,” said Judge Shinn. “The bailiff will return Sarah Isbel to the courtroom.”
“Your honor.” The old farmer got up, rumbling. “I serve on no jury with
The room was very quiet. Judge Shinn rubbed his chin as if here loomed a formidable problem. Then he said, “Very well, Mr. Isbel. I yield to necessity. There is no profit in gaining one juror while losing another. In view of your threat, Sarah Isbel is excused.”
And all this, Johnny thought with wonder, is going down in Elizabeth Sheare’s notebook. Yielding to necessity! Threats! It would undoubtedly make the most remarkable transcript in the history of American jury trials.
“Proceed, Mr. Clerk,” snapped Judge Shinn.
“I can’t, your honor,” said Burney Hackett feebly. “That’s all we got. Except for Mr. John Jacob Shinn, who got to be a property owner only this mornin’—”
“Oh, yes,” said the Judge, as if he had quite forgotten. “I said I’d make a special ruling on that, didn’t I? Because it appears, ladies and gentlemen, that unless we avail ourselves of the services of Mr. Shinn, we can’t satisfy the legal requirements of a twelve-person jury and therefore we can’t try the defendant in Shinn Corners.”
The jurors were staring at Johnny with distaste, whispering among themselves. Cruel, cruel the dilemma. Either a trial with a rank outsider sitting among them in a vital village affair, or no trial.
Judge Shinn waited.
And at last their heads inclined toward Hubert Hemus, and the First Selectman said something in an impatient undertone, and they all sank back, troubled but nodding.
The Judge promptly said: “So, although Mr. John Shinn is so newly in residence among us that he is not yet on the voting list from which the jury panel must be drawn, I rule that he may sit as a juror in this case if he otherwise qualifies.”
And there, thought Johnny as he went up to the witness chair assisted by a sly prod from Ush Peague’s pencil, is as grandly garbled a ruling as ever was delivered from a bench. How could a man otherwise qualify when the “otherwise” was what disqualified him?
Yes, he was familiar with the facts of the case. No, he had formed no opinion as to the defendant’s guilt or innocence... At this, in contrast to their genial sufferance when Samuel Sheare had made the same answer, the people of Shinn Corners glowered... And Andy Webster waved him cheerily away, and Johnny took the last vacant chair in the second row and immediately discovered that certain powerful emanations from the person and clothing of Laughing Waters were going to create a major problem of the case — for Juror Number Twelve, at any rate.
The last dreamlike development of the morning was Judge Shinn’s recessing of the trial in order to allow court, jurors, prosecutor, defense counsel, stenographer, and bailiff to attend the funeral of the victim whose alleged murderer they were in process of trying.
“Court will reconvene,” said the Judge, “at one P.M.”
