The advocate engaged against the criminal makes a long speech, in which he presents all the facts and surmises that tell against the prisoner in the strongest light, embellishing his discourse with all the flowers of eloquence at his command; when the evidence is defective, supplying its place with invective, insinuations and all sorts of ingenious arguments, to show the antecedent probability of the prisoner being the author of the crime. The prisoner's advocate does his best to whitewash his client, slurring over the strong points against him, and demolishing the arguments of his opponent, when these are unsupported by sufficient evidence. If he succeeds in satisfying the judge that the evidence and arguments against his client are not conclusive, the prisoner is acquitted, and nothing further is done; for the chief of the police, by whom the case is got up, relies exclusively on his theory; and when that is proved erroneous, he never takes the trouble to form another; so the real criminal escapes scot free. In fact, it is a Colymbian maxim that two persons cannot be tried for the same offence.
If, on the other hand, the evidence brought against the prisoner is irresistible, his advocate makes such a piteous appeal in his favour, offering all sorts of excuses for him on the ground of his youth, his age, his poverty or his wealth, his want of education or his vast intellectual acquirements, his miserable bachelor condition or his happy married state with a fond wife and loving children, his usefulness to the state or his absolute uselessness, that if he does not move the judge, he acts so powerfully on the sensibilities of the public that the prisoner, though possibly a thorough rogue, becomes an object of universal interest. His looks, his demeanour, his every action
