Outside, overflowing into the corridor, were gangsters, followers and friends of Dopey Jack.  Only an overpowering show of force preserved the orderliness of the court from their boasting, bragging, and threats.

The work of selecting the jury began, and we watched it carefully.  Kahn, cool and cunning, had evidently no idea of what Carton was holding out against him.  In the panel I could see the anemic-looking fellow whom we had caught with the goods up at Farrell’s.  Carton’s men had shadowed him and had learned of every man with whom he had spoken.  As each, for some reason or other, was objected to by Carton, Kahn began to show exasperation.

At last the anemic fellow came up for examination.  Kahn accepted him.

For a moment Carton seemed to fumble among his papers, without even looking at the prospective juror.  Then he drew out the print which Kennedy had made.  Quietly, without letting anyone else see it, he deliberately walked to Kahn’s table and showed it to the lawyer, without a word, in fact without anyone else in the court knowing anything about it.

Kahn’s face was a study, as he realized for the first time what it was that Carton and Kennedy had been doing that night at Farrell’s.  He paled.  His hand shook.  It was with the utmost effort that he could control his voice.  He had been cornered and the yellow streak in him showed through.

In a husky voice he withdrew the juror, and Carton, in the same cold, self-possessed manner resumed his former position, not even a trace of a smile on his features.

It was all done so quickly that scarcely a soul in the court besides ourselves realized that anything had happened.

“Isn’t he going to say anything about it?” I whispered to Craig.

“That will come later,” was all that Kennedy replied, his eyes riveted still on Carton.

Though no one besides ourselves realized it, Carton had thrown a bombshell that had demolished the defence.  Others noticed it, but as yet did not know the cause.  Kahn, the great Kahn by whom all the forces of the underworld had conjured, was completely unnerved.  Carton had fixed it so that he could not retreat and leave the case to someone else.  He had knocked the props from under his defence by uncannily turning down every man whom he had any reason of suspecting of having been approached.  Then he had given Kahn just a glimpse of the evidence that hinted at what was in store for himself personally.  Kahn was never the same after that.

Judge Pomeroy, who had been following the progress of the case attentively, threw another bombshell when he announced that he would direct that the names of the jurors be kept secret until it was absolutely necessary to disclose them, a most unusual proceeding designed to protect them from reprisals of gangmen.