"What's the matter?" inquired the D.A. apprehensively.

"I can't quite make out," answered O'Brien. "But most of 'em seem to
have a sort of idea that to kill a Chinaman ain't a crime but a virtue!"

"Well, don't tell anybody," whispered Peckham, "but I'm somewhat of that
way of thinking myself. Set 'em up again, John!"

However, by invoking the utmost celerity a jury was at last selected and
sworn at the end of the nineteenth day of the trial. As a jury O'Brien
confidentially admitted to Peckham it wasn't much! But what could you
expect of a bunch who were willing to swear that they hadn't any
prejudice against a Chink and would as soon acquit him as a white man?
The truth was that they were all gentlemen who, having lost their jobs,
were willing to swear to anything that would bring them in two dollars a
day. The more days the better! And it is historic fact that during the
sixty-nine days of Mock Hen's prosecution not one of them protested at
being kept away from his wife and children, his business or his
pleasure. On the contrary they all slumbered peacefully from ten until
four--and when the trial ended, on the whole they rather regretted that
it was over, the only genuine opinion regarding the case being that the
Chinks were all as funny as hell and that Mr. Tutt was a bully old boy.

The evidence respecting the death of the unfortunate Quong Lee made
little impression upon them. Seemingly they regarded the story much as
they did that of Elisha and the bears or Bel and the dragon--as a sort
of apocryphal narrative which they were required to listen to, but in no
wise bound to believe. They were much interested in Quong's suit of
chain mail, however, and from time to time awoke to enjoy the various