The district attorney sends for the assistant to inquire if he has looked up the law on similar cases in Texas and Alabama--which he probably has not done; and a friend on the telephone informs him that Tomkins, who has been drawn on the jury, is a boon companion of the prisoner and was accustomed to play bridge with him every Sunday night before the murder.
Coincidently, some private detectives enter with a long report on the various members of the panel, including the aforesaid Tomkins, whom they pronounce to be "all right," and as never having, to their knowledge, laid eyes on the accused.

Finally, in despair, the prosecutor locks himself in his library with a copy of the Bible, "Bartlett's Familiar Quotations," and a volume of celebrated speeches, to prepare his summing up, for no careful trial lawyer opens a case without first having prepared, to some extent, at least, his closing address to the jury.

He has thought about this for weeks and perhaps for months.

In his dreams he has formulated syllogisms and delivered them to imaginary yet obstinate talesman.

He has glanced through many volumes for similes and quotations of pertinency.