One never realizes how many newspapers there are in New York until one
attends an important criminal case--that brings their people out in
droves and swarms. The reporters took up most of the space in this
small room, paper and pencils were everywhere in evidence, and in one
corner there was a man with a camera stationed, determined, I suppose,
to get a photograph of our client, should she be called to the stand,
since none could be obtained in any other way.
I saw Singleton, the district attorney, come in and sit down near the
coroner, and then the jury filed in from their room and took their
seats. I examined them, man by man, with some little anxiety, but they
all seemed intelligent and fairly well-to-do. Mr. Royce was looking
over their names, and he checked them off carefully as the clerk
called the roll. Then he handed the list up to the coroner with a
little nod.
"Go ahead," he said. "They're all right, I guess--they look all
right."
"It's a good jury," replied the coroner, as he took the paper. "Better
than usual. Are you ready, Mr. Singleton?"
"Yes," said the district attorney. "Oh, wait a minute," he added, and
he got up and came down to our table. "You're going to put Miss
Holladay on the stand, I suppose----"
"And expose her to all this?" and our junior looked around the room.
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