When the foreman had counted the ballots Bently was horrified to discover that ten jurors now thought the defendant guilty, and only two believed him innocent.

“May I suggest,” said he earnestly, “that perhaps this old man did not understand in the magistrate’s court the elements that went to make up the offense charged against him?  He merely stood ready to admit freely whatever the facts were.  His opinion on the purely legal question of his own guilt was not of much value.  Anyhow, his subsequent plea of not guilty to the indictment neutralizes the significance of the original plea.”

There was a murmur of surprise and admiration from Bently’s companions.

“That’s true, too!” declared the salesman.  “I never thought of that!  You’re some talker—­you are, I must say!  But how about that business card?”

“It seems to me,” argued Bently, “that the card plays no particular part in this case.  In the first place the question before us is not whether Lowry ever did—­in the past—­hold himself out as a veterinary, but whether he did so on the day alleged in the indictment.  The fact that he gave the detective a card which he had had printed perhaps years before only tends to show that at some time or other he may have pretended to be a licensed veterinary.  And you will recall, gentlemen, that the testimony is merely that he said to the detective in reference to the card:  ‘That is my name.’  He did not say anything to him about being a veterinary.”

This somewhat disingenuous argument created a profound impression.

“Say, now you’ve said something!” declared the salesman.  “You’d oughta been a lawyer yourself.  Let’s take another vote.”

Curiously enough Bently’s argument seemed to have had a revolutionary effect, for the jury now stood ten to two for acquittal.  He began to feel encouraged.  If ever there was a case—­ Then he heard an altercation going on fiercely between the salesman and Brown’s summer friend, the latter insisting loudly that the detective was a perfect gentleman and entirely all right.

“Nobody questions Mr. Brown’s entire honesty,” interposed Bently hastily, in a friendly way.  “The question before us is the sufficiency of the evidence.  Upon this, it seems to me, there is what might fairly be called a reasonable doubt.”

“And you have to give that to the defendant—­it’s the law!” shouted the salesman in fury.

It was at this point that Mr. Tutt and Phelan had taken up their positions outside the door, and the friend of Brown had told the salesman that he gave him a pain; that his doubt wasn’t a reasonable doubt.

“Gentlemen!  Gentlemen!” protested Bently.  “Let us discuss this matter calmly.”

“But I’m a reasonable man!” shouted the salesman.  “And so, if I have any doubt, my doubt is bound to be reasonable.”

“You—­a reasonable man?” sneered Brown’s friend.  “You’re nothin’ but a damn fool!”