A Calculated Risk

[rabidsamfan]

I studied the juryman as he stepped down from the box, trying to apply some of Holmes's precepts. Despite the scented brilliantine in his hair and the barbershop neatness of his mustache, his ragged fingernails and badly polished boots showed him either careless of his appearance or under unusual strain. The knees and elbows of his suit were wearing thin, which I took as proof that he had not been able to afford better in some time. A pink corner of paper showed from one pocket, betraying why. A gambler, then – and a gamble too, if he were playing false.