TUTT AND MR. TUTT

By Arthur Train

1919

CONTENTS

THE HUMAN ELEMENT

MOCK HEN AND MOCK TURTLE

SAMUEL AND DELILAH

THE DOG ANDREW

WILE _Versus_ GUILE

HEPPLEWHITE TRAMP

LALLAPALOOSA LIMITED

The Human Element

 Although men flatter themselves with their great actions, they are not so often the result of great design as of chance. --LA ROCHEFOUCAULD. 

"He says he killed him, and that's all there is about it!" said Tutt toMr. Tutt. "What are you going to do with a fellow like that?" The juniorpartner of the celebrated firm of Tutt & Tutt, attorneys and counselorsat law, thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his yellow checkedbreeches and, balancing himself upon the heels of his patent-leatherboots, gazed in a distressed, respectfully inquiring manner at hisdistinguished associate. 

"Yes, " he repeated plaintively. "He don't make any bones about it atall. 'Sure, I killed him!' says he. 'And I'd kill him again, the ----!'I prefer not to quote his exact language. I've just come from the Tombsand had quite a talk with Serafino in the counsel room, with agum-chewing keeper sitting in the corner watching me for fear I'd sliphis prisoner a saw file or a shotgun or a barrel of poison. I'm all in!These murder cases drive me to drink, Mr. Tutt. I don't mind grandlarceny, forgery, assault or even manslaughter--but murder gets my goat!And when you have a crazy Italian for a client who says he's glad he didit and would like to do it again--please excuse me! It isn't law; it'ssuicide!"

He drew out a silk handkerchief ornamented with the colors of theAllies, and wiped his forehead despairingly. 

"Oh, " remarked Mr. Tutt with entire good nature. "He's glad he did itand he's quite willing to be hanged!"

"That's it in a nutshell!" replied Tutt. 

The senior partner of Tutt & Tutt ran his bony fingers through the lankgray locks over his left eye and tilted ceilingward the stogy betweenhis thin lips. Then he leaned back in his antique swivel chair, lockedhis hands behind his head, elevated his long legs luxuriously, andcrossed his feet upon the fourth volume of the American and EnglishEncyclopedia of Law, which lay open upon the desk at Champerty andMaintenance. Even in this inelegant and relaxed posture he somehowmanaged to maintain the air of picturesque dignity which always made histall, ungainly figure noticeable in any courtroom. Indubitably Mr. Ephraim Tutt suggested a past generation, the suggestion beingaccentuated by a slight pedantry of diction a trifle out of characterwith the rushing age in which he saw fit to practise his time-honoredprofession. "Cheer up, Tutt, " said he, pushing a box of stogies towardhis partner with the toe of his congress boot. "Have a weed?"

Since in the office of Tutt & Tutt such an invitation like those ofroyalty, was equivalent to a command, Tutt acquiesced. 

"Thank you, Mr. Tutt, " said Tutt, looking about vaguely for a match. 

"That conscienceless brat of a Willie steals 'em all, " growled Mr. Tutt. "Ring the bell. "

Tutt obeyed. He was a short, brisk little man with a pronouncedabdominal convexity, and he maintained toward his superior, though but afew years his junior, a mingled attitude of awe, admiration andaffection such as a dickey bird might adopt toward a distinguished owl. 

This attitude was shared by the entire office force. Inside the groundglass of the outer door Ephraim Tutt was king. To Tutt the opinion ofMr. Tutt upon any subject whatsoever was law, even if the courts mighthave held to the contrary. To Tutt he was the eternal fount of wisdom, culture and morality. Yet until Mr. Tutt finally elucidated his viewsTutt did not hesitate to hold conditional if temporary opinions of hisown. Briefly their relations were symbolized by the circumstance thatwhile Tutt always addressed his senior partner as "Mr. Tutt, " the latteraccosted him simply as "Tutt. " In a word there was only one Mr. Tutt inthe firm of Tutt & Tutt. 

But so far as that went there was only one Tutt. On the theory that alily cannot be painted, the estate of one seemingly was as dignified asthat of the other. At any rate there never was and never had been anyconfusion or ambiguity arising out of the matter since the day, twentyyears before, when Tutt had visited Mr. Tutt's law office in search ofemployment. Mr. Tutt was just rising into fame as a police-court lawyer. Tutt had only recently been admitted to the bar, having abandoned hisnative city of Bangor, Maine, for the metropolis. 

"And may I ask why you should come to me?" Mr. Tutt had demandedseverely from behind the stogy, which even at that early date had beenas much a part of his facial anatomy as his long ruminative nose. "Whythe devil should you come to me? I am nobody, sir--nobody! In this greatcity certainly there are thousands far more qualified than I to furtheryour professional and financial advancement. "

"Because, " answered the inspired Tutt with modesty, "I feel that withyou I should be associated with a good name. "

That had settled the matter. They bore no relationship to one another, but they were the only Tutts in the city and there seemed to be acertain propriety in their hanging together. Neither had regretted itfor a moment, and as the years passed they became indispensable to eachother. They were the necessary component parts of a harmonious legalwhole. Mr. Tutt was the brains and the voice, while Tutt was the eyesand legs of a combination that at intervals--rare ones, it must beconfessed--made the law tremble, sometimes in fear and more often withjoy. 

At first, speaking figuratively, Tutt merely carried Mr. Tutt'sbag--rode on his coat tails, as it were; but as time went on hisactivity, ingenuity and industry made him indispensable and led to ajunior partnership. Tutt prepared the cases for Mr. Tutt to try. Bothwere well versed in the law if they were not profound lawyers, but asthe origin of the firm was humble, their practise was of a miscellaneouscharacter. 

"Never turn down a case, " was Tutt's motto. 

"Our duty as sworn officers of the judicial branch of the Governmentrenders it incumbent upon us to perform whatever services our clients'exigencies demand, " was Mr. Tutt's way of putting it. 

In the end it amounted to exactly the same thing. As a result, inaddition to their own clientele, other members of the bar who foundthemselves encumbered with matters which for one reason or another theypreferred not to handle formed the habit of turning them over to Tutt &Tutt. A never-ending stream of peculiar cases flowed through the office, each leaving behind it some residuum of golden dust, however small. Thestately or, as an unkind observer might have put it, the ramshackly formof the senior partner was a constant figure in all the courts, from thatof the coroner on the one hand to the appellate tribunals upon theother. It was immaterial to him what the case was about--whether itdealt with the "next eventual estate" or the damages for a dog bite--solong as he was paid and Tutt prepared it. Hence Tutt & Tutt prospered. And as the law, like any other profession requires jacks-of-all-trades, the firm acquired a certain peculiar professional standing of its own, and enjoyed the good will of the bar as a whole. 

They had the reputation of being sound lawyers if not overafflicted witha sense of professional dignity, whose word was better than their bond, yet who, faithful to their clients' interests knew no mercy and gave noquarter. They took and pressed cases which other lawyers dared not touchlest they should be defiled--and nobody seemed to think any the less ofthem for so doing. They raised points that made the refinements of theancient schoolmen seem blunt in comparison. No respecters of persons, they harried the rich and taunted the powerful, and would have as soonjailed a bishop or a judge as a pickpocket if he deserved it. Betweenthem they knew more kinds of law than most of their professionalbrethren, and as Mr. Tutt was a bookworm and a seeker after legal andother lore their dusty old library was full of hidden treasures, whichon frequent occasions were unearthed to entertain the jury or delightthe bench. They were loyal friends, fearsome enemies, high chargers, andmaintained their unique position in spite of the fact that at one timeor another they had run close to the shadowy line which divides theethical from that which is not. Yet Mr. Tutt had brought disbarmentproceedings against many lawyers in his time and--what is more--had themdisbarred. 

"Leave old Tutt alone, " was held sage advice, and when other lawyersdesired to entertain the judiciary they were apt to invite Mr. Tutt tobe of the party. And Tutt gloried in the glories of Mr. Tutt. 

"That's it!" repeated Tutt as he lit his stogy, which flared up like aburning bush, the cub of a Willie having foraged successfully in theouter office for a match. "He's willing to be hanged or damned oranything else just for the sake of putting a bullet through the otherfellow!"

"What was the name of the unfortunate deceased?"

"Tomasso Crocedoro--a barber. "

"That is almost a defense in itself, " mused Mr. Tutt. "Anyhow, if I'vegot to defend Angelo for shooting Tomasso you might as well give me ashort scenario of the melodrama. By the way, are we retained or assignedby the court?"

"Assigned, " chirped Tutt. 

"So that all we'll get out of it is about enough to keep me in stogiesfor a couple of months!"

"And--if he's convicted, as of course he will be--a good chance oflosing our reputation as successful trial counsel. Why not beg off?"

"Let me hear the story first, " answered Mr. Tutt. "Angelo sounds like agood sport. I have a mild affection for him already. "

He reached into the lower compartment of his desk and lifted out atumbler and a bottle of malt extract, which he placed carefully at hiselbow. Then he leaned back again expectantly. 

"It is a simple and naive story, " began Tutt, seating himself in thechair reserved for paying clients--that is to say, one which did nothave the two front legs sawed off an inch or so in order to makelingering uncomfortable. "A plain, unvarnished tale. Our client is onewho makes an honest living by blacking shoes near the entrance to theBrooklyn Bridge. He is one of several hundred original Tonys who conductshoe-shining emporiums. "

"Emporia, " corrected his partner, pouring out a tumbler of malt extract. 

"He formed an attachment for a certain young lady, " went on Tutt, undisturbed, "who had previously had some sort of love affair withCrocedoro, as a result of which her social standing had become slightlyimpaired. In a word Tomasso jilted her. Angelo saw, pitied and lovedher, took her for better or for worse, and married her. "

"For which, " interjected Mr. Tutt, "he is entitled to everyone'srespect. "

"Quite so!" agreed Tutt. "Now Tomasso, though not willing to marry thegirl himself, seems to have resented the idea of having anyone else doso, and accordingly seized every opportunity which presented itself totwit Angelo about the matter. "

"Dog in the manger, so to speak, " nodded Mr. Tutt. 

"He not only jeered at Angelo for marrying Rosalina but he began tohang about his discarded mistress again and scoff at her choice of ahusband. But Rosalina gave him the cold shoulder, with the result thathe became more and more insulting to Angelo. Finally one day our clientmade up his mind not to stand it any longer, secured a revolver, soughtout Tomasso in his barber shop and put a bullet through his head. Nowhowever much you may sympathize with Angelo as a man and a husband thereisn't the slightest doubt that he killed Tomasso with every kind ofdeliberation and premeditation. "

"If the case is as you say, " replied Mr. Tutt, replacing the bottle andtumbler within the lower drawer and flicking a stogy ash from hiswaistcoat, "the honorable justice who handed it to us is no friend ofours. "

"He isn't, " assented his partner. "It was Babson and he hates Italians. Moreover, he stated in open court that he proposed to try the casehimself next Monday and that we must be ready without fail. "

"So Babson did that to us!" growled Mr. Tutt. "Just like him. He'll packthe jury and charge our innocent Angelo into the middle of hades. "

"And O'Brien is the assistant district attorney in charge of theprosecution, " mildly added Tutt. "But what can we do? We're assigned, we've got a guilty client, and we've got to defend him. "

"Have you set Bonnie Doon looking up witnesses?" asked Mr. Tutt. "Ithought I saw him outside during the forenoon. "

"Yes, " replied Tutt. "But Bonnie says it's the toughest case he ever hadto handle in which to find any witnesses for the defense. There aren'tany. Besides, the girl bought the gun and gave it to Angelo the sameday. "

"How do you know that?" demanded Mr. Tutt, frowning. 

"Because she told me so herself, " said Tutt. "She's outside if you wantto see her. "

"I might as well give her what you call 'the once over, '" replied thesenior partner. 

Tutt retired and presently returned half leading, half pushing ashrinking young Italian woman, shabbily dressed but with the features ofone of Raphael's madonnas. She wore no hat and her hands and fingernails were far from clean, but from the folds of her black shawl herneck rose like a column of slightly discolored Carrara marble, uponwhich her head with its coils of heavy hair was poised with the grace ofa sulky empress. 

"Come in, my child, and sit down, " said Mr. Tutt kindly. "No, not inthat one; in that one. " He indicated the chair previously occupied byhis junior. "You can leave us, Tutt. I want to talk to this young ladyalone. "

The girl sat sullenly with averted face, showing in her attitude herinstinctive feeling that all officers of the law, no matter upon whichside they were supposed to be, were one and all engaged in a mysteriousconspiracy of which she and her unfortunate Angelo were the victims. Afew words from the old lawyer and she began to feel more confidence, however. No one, in fact, could help but realize at first glance Mr. Tutt's warmth of heart. The lines of his sunken cheeks if left tothemselves automatically tended to draw together into a whimsical smile, and it required a positive act of will upon his part to adopt the sternand relentless look with which he was wont to glower down upon someunfortunate witness in cross-examination. 

Inside Mr. Tutt was a benign and rather mellow old fellow, with a drysense of humor and a very keen knowledge of his fellow men. He made agood deal of money, but not having any wife or child upon which tolavish it he spent it all either on books or surreptitiously in quixoticgifts to friends or strangers whom he either secretly admired or whom hebelieved to be in need of money. There were vague traditions in theoffice of presents of bizarre and quite impossible clothes made tooffice boys and stenographers; of ex-convicts reoutfitted and sentrejoicing to foreign parts; of tramps gorged to repletion and thenpumped dry of their adventures in Mr. Tutt's comfortable, dingy oldlibrary; of a fur coat suddenly clapped upon the rounded shoulders ofold Scraggs, the antiquated scrivener in the accountant's cage in theouter office, whose alcoholic career, his employer alleged, was markedby a trail of empty rum kegs, each one flying the white flag ofsurrender. 

And yet old Ephraim Tutt could on occasion be cold as chiseled steel, and as hard. Any appeal from a child, a woman or an outcast always metwith his ready response; but for the rich, successful and those in powerhe seemed to entertain a deep and enduring grudge. He would burn themidnight oil with equal zest to block a crooked deal on the part of awealthy corporation or to devise a means to extricate some no lesscrooked rascal from the clutches of the law, provided that the rascalseemed the victim of hard luck, inheritance or environment. Hisweather-beaten conscience was as elastic as his heart. Indeed when underthe expansive influence of a sufficient quantity of malt extract orancient brandy from the cellaret on his library desk he had sometimesbeen heard to enunciate the theory that there was very little differencebetween the people in jail and those who were not. 

He would work weeks without compensation to argue the case of someguilty rogue before the Court of Appeals, in order, as he said, to"settle the law, " when his only real object was to get the miserablefellow out of jail and send him back to his wife and children. He wentthrough life with a twinkling eye and a quizzical smile, and when he didwrong he did it--if such a thing is possible--in a way to make peoplebetter. He was a dangerous adversary and judges were afraid of him, notbecause he ever tricked or deceived them but because of the audacity andnovelty of his arguments which left them speechless. He had theassurance that usually comes with age and with a lifelong knowledge ofhuman nature, yet apparently he had always been possessed of it. 

Once a judge having assigned him to look out for the interests of alawyerless prisoner suggested that he take his new client into theadjoining jury room and give him the best advice he could. Mr. Tutt wasgone so long that the judge became weary, and to find out what hadbecome of him sent an officer, who found the lawyer reading a newspaperbeside an open window, but no sign of the prisoner. In great excitementthe officer reported the situation to the judge, who ordered Mr. Tutt tothe bar. 

"What has become of the prisoner?" demanded His Honor. 

"I do not know, " replied the lawyer calmly. "The window was open and Isuspect that he used it as a means of exit. "

"Are you not aware that you are a party to an escape--a crime?" hotlychallenged the judge. 

"I most respectfully deny the charge, " returned Mr. Tutt. 

"I told you to take the prisoner into that room and give him the bestadvice you could. "

"I did!" interjected the lawyer. 

"Ah!" exclaimed the judge. "You admit it! What advice did you give him?"

"The law does not permit me to state that, " answered Mr. Tutt in hismost dignified tones. "That is a privileged communication from theinviolate obligation to preserve which only my client can release me--Icannot betray a sacred trust. Yet I might quote Cervantes and remindYour Honor that 'Fortune leaves always some door open to come at aremedy!'"

Now as he gazed at the tear-stained cheeks of the girl-wife whosehusband had committed murder in defense of her self-respect, he vowedthat so far as he was able he would fight to save him. The moredesperate the case the more desperate her need of him--the greater theduty and the greater his honor if successful. 

"Believe that I am your friend, my dear!" he assured her. "You and Imust work together to set Angelo free. "

"It's no use, " she returned less defiantly. "He done it. He won't denyit. "

"But he is entitled to his defense, " urged Mr. Tutt quietly. 

"He won't make no defense. "

"We must make one for him. "

"There ain't none. He just went and killed him. "

Mr. Tutt shrugged his shoulders. 

"There is always a defense, " he answered with conviction. "Anyhow wecan't let him be convicted without making an effort. Will they be ableto prove where he got the pistol?"

"He didn't get the pistol, " retorted the girl with a glint in her blackeyes. "I got it. I'd ha' shot him myself if he hadn't. I said I wasgoin' to, but he wouldn't let me. "

"Dear, dear!" sighed Mr. Tutt. "What a case! Both of you trying to seewhich could get hanged first!"

 * * * * *

The inevitable day of Angelo's trial came. Upon the bench the HonorableMr. Justice Babson glowered down upon the cowering defendant flanked byhis distinguished counsel, Tutt & Tutt, and upon the two hundred goodand true talesmen who, "all other business laid aside, " had been draggedfrom the comfort of their homes and the important affairs of theirvarious livelihoods to pass upon the merits of the issue duly joinedbetween The People of the State of New York and Angelo Serafino, charged with murder. 

One by one as his name was called each took his seat in the witnesschair upon the _voir dire_ and perjured himself like a gentleman inorder to escape from service, shyly confessing to an ineradicableprejudice against the entire Italian race and this defendant inparticular, and to an antipathy against capital punishment which, soeach unhesitatingly averred, would render him utterly incapable ofsatisfactorily performing his functions if selected as a juryman. Hardlyone, however, but was routed by the Machiavellian Babson. Hardly one, however ingenious his excuse--whether about to be married or immediatelybecome a father, whether engaged in a business deal involving millionswhich required his instant and personal attention whether in the laststages of illness or obligated to be present at the bedside of a dyingwife--but was browbeaten into helplessness and ordered back to take hisplace amidst the waiting throng of recalcitrant citizens so disinclinedto do their part in elevating that system of trial by jury the failureof which at other times they so loudly condemned. 

This trifling preliminary having been concluded, the few jurymen who hadmanaged to wriggle through the judicial sieve were allowed to withdraw, the balance of the calendar was adjourned, those spectators who werestanding up were ordered to sit down and those already sitting down wereordered to sit somewhere else, the prisoners in the rear of the roomwere sent back to the Tombs to await their fate upon some later day, thereporters gathered rapaciously about the table just behind thedefendant, a corpulent Ganymede in the person of an aged court officerbore tremblingly an opaque glass of yellow drinking water to the bench, O'Brien the prosecutor blew his nose with a fanfare of trumpets, Mr. Tutt smiled an ingratiating smile which seemed to clasp the whole worldto his bosom--and the real battle commenced; a game in which every cardin the pack had been stacked against the prisoner by an unscrupulouspair of officials whose only aim was to maintain their record ofconvictions of "murder in the first" and who laid their plans withingenuity and carried them out with skill and enthusiasm to habitualsuccess. 

They were a grand little pair of convictors, were Babson and O'Brien, and woe unto that man who was brought before them. It was even allegedby the impious that when Babson was in doubt what to do or what O'Brienwanted him to do the latter communicated the information to hisconspirator upon the bench by a system of preconcerted signals. Butindeed no such system was necessary, for the judge's part in the dramawas merely to sustain his colleague's objections and overrule those ofhis opponent, after which he himself delivered the _coup de grace_ withunerring insight and accuracy. When Babson got through charging a jurythe latter had always in fact been instructed in brutal and sneeringtones to convict the defendant or forever after to regard themselves asdisloyal citizens, oath violators and outcasts though the stenographicrecord of his remarks would have led the reader thereof to suppose thatthis same judge was a conscientious, tender-hearted merciful lover ofhumanity, whose sensitive soul quivered at the mere thought of a prisoncell, and who meticulously sought to surround the defendant with everyprotection the law could interpose against the imputation of guilt. 

He was, as Tutt put it, "a dangerous old cuss. " O'Brien was even worse. He was a bull-necked, bullet-headed, pugnosed young ruffian with beeryeyes, who had an insatiable ambition and a still greater conceit, butwho had devised a blundering, innocent, helpless way of conductinghimself before a jury that deceived them into believing that hisinexperience required their help and his disinterestedness their loyalsupport. Both of them were apparently fair-minded, honest publicservants; both in reality were subtly disingenuous to a degree beyondordinary comprehension, for years of practise had made them sensitive toevery whimsy of emotion and taught them how to play upon the psychologyof the jury as the careless zephyr softly draws its melody from theaeolian harp. In a word they were a precious pair of crooks, who fortheir own petty selfish ends played fast and loose with liberty, lifeand death. 

Both of them hated Mr. Tutt, who had more than once made them ridiculousbefore the jury and shown them up before the Court of Appeals, and theold lawyer recognized well the fact that these two legal wolves were inrevenge planning to tear him and his helpless client to pieces, havingfirst deliberately selected him as a victim and assigned him toofficiate at a ceremony which, however just so far as its consummationmight be concerned, was nothing less in its conduct than judicialmurder. Now they were laughing at him in their sleeves, for Mr. Tuttenjoyed the reputation of never having defended a client who had beenconvicted of murder, and that spotless reputation was about to beannihilated forever. 

Though the defense had thirty peremptory challenges Mr. Tutt well knewthat Babson would sustain the prosecutor's objections for bias until thejury box would contain the twelve automata personally selected byO'Brien in advance from what Tutt called "the army of the gibbet. " Yetthe old war horse outwardly maintained a calm and genial exterior, betraying none of the apprehension which in fact existed beneath hismask of professional composure. The court officer rapped sharply forsilence. 

"Are you quite ready to proceed with the case?" inquired the judge witha courtesy in which was ill concealed a leer of triumph. 

"Yes, Your Honor, " responded Mr. Tutt in velvet tones. 

"Call the first talesman!"

The fight was on, the professional duel between traditional enemies, inwhich the stake--a human life--was in truth the thing of least concern, had begun. Yet no casual observer would have suspected the actualsignificance of what was going on or the part that envy, malice, uncharitableness, greed, selfishness and ambition were playing in it. Hewould have seen merely a partially filled courtroom flooded withsunshine from high windows, an attentive and dignified judge in a blacksilk robe sitting upon a dais below which a white-haired clerk drewlittle slips of paper from a wheel and summoned jurymen to a servicewhich outwardly bore no suggestion of a tragedy. 

He would have seen a somewhat unprepossessing assistant districtattorney lounging in front of the jury box, taking apparently no greatinterest in the proceedings, and a worried-looking young Italian sittingat the prisoner's table between a rubicund little man with a round redface and a tall, grave, longish-haired lawyer with a frame not unlikethat of Abraham Lincoln, over whose wrinkled face played from time totime the suggestion of a smile. Behind a balustrade were the reporters, scribbling on rough sheets of yellow paper. Then came rows of benches, upon the first of which, as near the jury box as possible, sat Rosalinain a new bombazine dress and wearing a large imitation gold crossfurnished for the occasion out of the legal property room of Tutt &Tutt. Occasionally she sobbed softly. The bulk of the spectatorsconsisted of rejected talesmen, witnesses, law clerks, professionalcourt loafers and women seeking emotional sensations which they had notthe courage or the means to satisfy otherwise. The courtroom wascomparatively quiet, the silence broken only by the droning voice of theclerk and the lazy interplay of question and answer between talesman andlawyer. 

Yet beneath the humdrum, casual, almost indifferent manner in which theproceedings seemed to be conducted each side was watching every movemade by the other with the tension of a tiger ready to spring upon itsprey. Babson and O'Brien were engaged in forcing upon the defense a jurycomposed entirely of case-hardened convictors, while Tutt & Tutt werefighting desperately to secure one so heterogeneous in character thatthey could hope for a disagreement. 

By recess thirty-seven talesmen had been examined without a foremanhaving been selected, and Mr. Tutt had exhausted twenty-nine of histhirty challenges, as against three for the prosecution. The courtreconvened and a new talesman was called, resembling in appearance aprofessional hangman who for relaxation leaned toward the execution ofItalians. Mr. Tutt examined him for bias and every known form ofincompetency, but in vain--then challenged peremptorily. Thirtychallenges! He looked on Tutt with slightly raised eyebrows. 

"Patrick Henry Walsh--to the witness chair, please, Mr. Walsh!" calledthe clerk, drawing another slip from the box. 

Mr. Walsh rose and came forward heavily, while Tutt & Tutt trembled. Hewas the one man they were afraid of--an old-timer celebrated as abulwark of the prosecution, who could always be safely counted upon touphold the arms of the law, who regarded with reverence all officialsconnected with the administration of justice, and from whosecomposition all human emotions had been carefully excluded by theCreator. He was a square-jawed, severe, heavily built person, with along relentless upper lip, cheeks ruddy from the open air; engaged inthe contracting business; and he had a brogue that would have charmed amavis off a tree. Mr. Tutt looked hopelessly at Tutt. 

Babson and O'Brien had won. 

Once more Mr. Tutt struggled against his fate. Was Mr. Walsh sure he hadno prejudices against Italians or foreigners generally? Quite. Did heknow anyone connected with the case? No. Had he any objection to theinfliction of capital punishment? None whatever. The defense hadexhausted all its challenges. Mr. Tutt turned to the prospective foremanwith an endearing smile. 

"Mr. Walsh, " said he in caressing tones, "you are precisely the type ofman in whom I feel the utmost confidence in submitting the fate of myclient. I believe that you will make an ideal foreman I hardly need toask you whether you will accord the defendant the benefit of everyreasonable doubt, and if you have such a doubt will acquit him. "

Mr. Walsh gazed suspiciously at Mr. Tutt. 

"Sure, " he responded dryly, "Oi'll give him the benefit o' the doubt, but if Oi think he's guilty Oi'll convict him. "

Mr. Tutt shivered. 

"Of course! Of course! That would be your duty! You are entirelysatisfactory, Mr. Walsh!"

"Mr. Walsh is more than satisfactory to the prosecution!" intonedO'Brien. 

"Be sworn, Mr. Walsh, " directed the clerk; and the filling of the jurybox in the memorable case of People versus Serafino was begun. 

"That chap doesn't like us, " whispered Mr. Tutt to Tutt. "I laid it on abit too thick. "

In fact, Mr. Walsh had already entered upon friendly relations with Mr. O'Brien, and as the latter helped him arrange a place for his hat andcoat the foreman cast a look tinged with malevolence at the defendantand his counsel, as if to say "You can't fool me. I know the kind oftricks you fellows are all up to. "

O'Brien could not repress a grin. The clerk drew forth another name. 

"Mr. Tompkins--will you take the chair?"

Swiftly the jury was impaneled. O'Brien challenged everybody who did notsuit his fancy, while Tutt & Tutt sat helpless. 

Ten minutes and the clerk called the roll, beginning with Mr. Walsh, andthey were solemnly sworn a true verdict to find, and settled themselvesto the task. 

The mills of the gods had begun to grind, and Angelo was being draggedto his fate as inexorably and as surely, with about as much chance ofescape, as a log that is being drawn slowly toward a buzz saw. 

"You may open the case, Mr. O'Brien, " announced Judge Babson, leaningback and wiping his glasses. 

Then surreptitiously he began to read his mail as his fellow conspiratorundertook to tell the jury what it was all about. One by one thewitnesses were called--the coroner's physician, the policeman who hadarrested Angelo outside the barber shop with the smoking pistol in hishand, the assistant barber who had seen the shooting, the customer whowas being shaved. Each drove a spike into poor Angelo's legal coffin. Mr. Tutt could not shake them. This evidence was plain. He had come intothe shop, accused Crocedoro of making his wife's life unbearableand--shot him. 

Yet Mr. Tutt did not lose any of his equanimity. With the tips of hislong fingers held lightly together in front of him, and swaying slightlybackward and forward upon the balls of his feet, he smiled benignly downupon the customer and the barber's assistant as if these witnesses weremerely unfortunate in not being able to disclose to the jury all thefacts. His manner indicated that a mysterious and untold tragedy laybehind what they had heard, a tragedy pregnant with primordial vitalpassions, involving the most sacred of human relationships, which whenknown would rouse the spirit of chivalry of the entire panel. 

On cross-examination the barber testified that Angelo had said: "Youmaka small of my wife long enough!"

"Ah!" murmured Mr. Tutt, waving an arm in the direction of Rosalina. Didthe witness recognize the defendant's young wife? The jury showedinterest and examined the sobbing Rosalina with approval. Yes, thewitness recognized her. Did the witness know to what incident orincidents the defendant had referred by his remark--what the deceasedCrocedoro had done to Rosalina--if anything? No, the witness did not. Mr. Tutt looked significantly at the row of faces in the jury box. 

Then leaning forward he asked significantly: "Did you see Crocedorothreaten the defendant with his razor?"

"I object!" shouted O'Brien, springing to his feet. "The question isimproper. There is no suggestion that Crocedoro did anything. Thedefendant can testify to that if he wants to!"

"Oh, let him answer!" drawled the judge. 

"No--" began the witness. 

"Ah!" cried Mr. Tutt. "You did not see Crocedoro threaten the defendantwith his razor! That will do!"

But forewarned by this trifling experience, Mr. O'Brien induced thecustomer, the next witness, to swear that Crocedoro had not in fact madeany move whatever with his razor toward Angelo, who had deliberatelyraised his pistol and shot him. 

Mr. Tutt rose to the cross-examination with the same urbanity as before. Where was the witness standing? The witness said he wasn't standing. Well, where was he sitting, then? In the chair. 

"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Tutt triumphantly. "Then you had your back to theshooting!"

In a moment O'Brien had the witness practically rescued by theexplanation that he had seen the whole thing in the glass in front ofhim. The firm of Tutt & Tutt uttered in chorus a groan of outragedincredulity. Several jurymen were seen to wrinkle their foreheads inmeditation. Mr. Tutt had sown a tiny--infinitesimally tiny, to besure--seed of doubt, not as to the killing at all but as to the completeveracity of the witness. 

And then O'Brien made his coup. 

"Rosalina Serafino--take the witness stand!" he ordered. 

He would get from her own lips the admission that she bought the pistoland gave it to Angelo!

But with an outburst of indignation that would have done credit to theelder Booth Mr. Tutt was immediately on his feet protesting against theoutrage, the barbarity, the heartlessness, the illegality of making awife testify against her husband! His eyes flashed, his disordered lockswaved in picturesque synchronization with his impassioned gesturesRosalina, her beautiful golden cross rising and falling hystericallyupon her bosom, took her seat in the witness chair like a frightened, furtive creature of the woods, gazed for one brief instant upon thetwelve men in the jury box with those great black eyes of hers, and thenwith burning cheeks buried her face in her handkerchief. 

"I protest against this piece of cruelty!" cried Mr. Tutt in a voicevibrating with indignation. "This is worthy of the Inquisition. Will noteven the cross upon her breast protect her from being compelled toreveal those secrets that are sacred to wife and motherhood? Can the lawthus indirectly tear the seal of confidence from the Confessional? Mr. O'Brien, you go too far! There are some things that even you--brilliantas you are--may not trifle with. "

A juryman nodded. The eleven others, being more intelligent, failed tounderstand what he was talking about. 

"Mr. Tutt's objection is sound--if he wishes to press it, " remarked thejudge satirically. "You may step down, madam. The law will not compel awife to testify against her husband. Have you any more witnesses, MisterDistrict Attorney?"

"The People rest, " said Mr. O'Brien. "The case is with the defense. "

Mr. Tutt rose with solemnity. 

"The court will, I suppose, grant me a moment or two to confer with myclient?" he inquired. Babson bowed and the jury saw the lawyer leanacross the defendant and engage his partner in what seemed to be aweighty deliberation. 

"I killa him! I say so!" muttered Angelo feebly to Mr. Tutt. 

"Shut up, you fool!" hissed Tutt, grabbing him by the leg. "Keep stillor I'll wring your neck. "

"If I could reach that old crook up on the bench I would twist hisnose, " remarked Mr. Tutt to Tutt with an air of consulting him about theYear Books. "And as for that criminal O'Brien, I'll get him yet!"

With great dignity Mr. Tutt then rose and again addressed the court:

"We have decided under all the circumstances of this most extraordinarycase, Your Honor, not to put in any defense. I shall not call thedefendant--"

"I killa him--" began Angelo, breaking loose from Tutt and strugglingto his feet. It was a horrible movement. But Tutt clapped his hand overAngelo's mouth and forced him back into his seat. 

"The defense rests, " said Mr. Tutt, ignoring the interruption. "So faras we are concerned the case is closed. "

"Both sides rest!" snapped Babson. "How long do you want to sum up?"

Mr. Tutt looked at the clock, which pointed to three. The regular hourof adjournment was at four. Delay was everything in a case like this. Ajuryman might die suddenly overnight or fall grievously ill; or somelegal accident might occur which would necessitate declaring a mistrial. There is, always hope in a criminal case so long as the verdict has notactually been returned and the jury polled and discharged. If possiblehe must drag his summing up over until the following day. Somethingmight happen. 

"About two hours, Your Honor, " he replied. 

The jury stirred impatiently. It was clear that they regarded a two-hourspeech from him under the circumstances as an imposition. But Babsonwished to preserve the fiction of impartiality. 

"Very well, " said he. "You may sum up until four-thirty, and have halfan hour more to-morrow morning. See that the doors are closed, CaptainPhelan. We do not want any interruption while the summations are goingon. "

"All out that's goin' out! Everybody out that's got no business, withthe court!" bellowed Captain Phelan. 

Mr. Tutt with an ominous heightening of the pulse realized that the realordeal was at last at hand, for the closing of the case had wrought inthe old lawyer an instant metamorphosis. With the words "The defenserests" every suggestion of the mountebank, the actor or the shyster hadvanished. The awful responsibility under which he labored; theoverwhelming and damning evidence against his client; the terribleconsequences of the least mistake that he might make; the fact that onlythe sword of his ability, and his alone, stood between Angelo and ahideous death by fire in the electric chair--sobered and chastened him. Had he been a praying man in that moment he would have prayed--but hewas not. 

For his client was foredoomed--foredoomed not only by justice but alsoby trickery and guile--and was being driven slowly but surely towardsthe judicial shambles. For what had he succeeded in adducing in hisbehalf? Nothing but the purely apocryphal speculation that the deadbarber might have threatened Angelo with his razor and that thewitnesses might possibly have drawn somewhat upon their imaginations ingiving the details of their testimony. A sorry defense! Indeed, nodefense at all. All the sorrier in that he had not even been able to getbefore the jury the purely sentimental excuses for the homicide, for hecould only do this by calling Rosalina to the stand, which would haveenabled the prosecution to cross-examine her in regard to the purchaseof the pistol and the delivery of it to her husband--the strongestevidence of premeditation. Yet he must find some argument, some plea, some thread of reason upon which the jury might hang a disagreement or averdict in a lesser degree. 

With a shuffling of feet the last of the crowd pushed through the bigoak doors and they were closed and locked. An officer brought a corrodedtumbler of brackish water and placed it in front of Mr. Tutt. The judgeleaned forward with malicious courtesy. The jury settled themselves andturned toward the lawyer attentively yet defiantly, hardening theirhearts already against his expected appeals to sentiment. O'Brien, ostentatiously producing a cigarette, lounged out through the side doorleading to the jury room and prison cells. The clerk began copying hisrecords. The clock ticked loudly. 

And Mr. Tutt rose and began going through the empty formality ofattempting to discuss the evidence in such a way as to excuse orpalliate Angelo's crime. For Angelo's guilt of murder in the firstdegree was so plain that it had never for one moment been in theslightest doubt. Whatever might be said for his act from the point ofview of human emotion only made his motive and responsibility under thestatues all the clearer. There was not even the unwritten law to appealto. Yet there was fundamentally a genuine defense, a defense that couldnot be urged even by innuendo: the defense that no accused ought to beconvicted upon any evidence whatever, no matter how conclusive in atrial conducted with essential though wholly concealed unfairness. 

Such was the case of Angelo. No one could demonstrate it, no one couldwith safety even hint at it; any charge that the court was anything butimpartial would prove a boomerang to the defense; and yet the factsremained that the whole proceeding from start to finish had beenconducted unfairly and with illegality, that the jury had been duped anddeceived, and that the pretense that the guilty Angelo had been given animpartial trial was a farce. Every word of the court had been anaccusation, a sneer, an acceptance of the defendant's guilt as a matterof course, an abuse far more subversive of our theory of government thanthe mere acquittal of a single criminal, for it struck at the veryfoundations of that liberty which the fathers had sought the shores ofthe unknown continent to gain. 

Unmistakably the proceedings had been conducted throughout upon thetheory that the defendant must prove his innocence and that presumablyhe was a guilty man; and this as well as his own impression that theevidence was conclusive the judge had subtly conveyed to the jury in histone of speaking, his ironical manner and his facial expression. Guiltyor not Angelo was being railroaded. That was the real defense--thedefense that could never be established even in any higher court, exceptperhaps in the highest court of all, which is not of earth. 

And so Mr. Tutt, boiling with suppressed indignation weighed down withthe sense of his responsibility, fully realizing his inability to sayanything based on the evidence in behalf of his client, feeling twentyyears older than he had during the verbal duel of the actualcross-examination, rose with a genial smile upon his puckered old faceand with a careless air almost of gaiety, which seemed to indicate theutmost confidence and determination, and with a graceful compliment tohis arch enemy upon the bench and the yellow dog who had hunted withhim, assured the jury that the defendant had had the fairest of fairtrials and that he, Mr. Tutt, would now proceed to demonstrate to theirsatisfaction his client's entire innocence; nay, would show them that hewas a man not only guiltless of any wrong-doing but worthy of theirhearty commendation. 

With jokes not too unseemly for the occasion he overcame theirpreliminary distrust and put them in a good humor. He gave a historicaldissertation upon the law governing homicide, on the constitutionalrights of American citizens, on the laws of naturalization, marriage, and the domestic relations; waxed eloquent over Italy and the Italiancharacter, mentioned Cavour, Garibaldi and Mazzini in a way to implythat Angelo was their lineal descendant; and quoted from D'Annunzio backto Horace, Cicero and Plautus. 

"Bunk! Nothing but bunk!" muttered Tutt, studying the twelve facesbefore him. "And they all know it!"

But Mr. Tutt was nothing if not interesting. These prosaic citizens ofNew York County, these saloon and hotel keepers, these contractors, insurance agents and salesmen were learning something of history, ofphilosophy, of art and beauty. They liked it. They felt they werehearing something worth while, as indeed they were, and they forgot allabout Angelo and the unfortunate Crocedoro in their admiration for Mr. Tutt, who had lifted them out of the dingy sordid courtroom into thesunlight of the Golden Age. And as he led them through Greek and Romanliterature, through the early English poets, through Shakespeare and theKing James version, down to John Galsworthy and Rupert Brooke, hebrought something that was noble, fine and sweet into their grubbymaterialistic lives; and at the same time the hand of the clock creptsteadily on until he and it reached Château-Thierry and half past fourtogether. 

"Bang!" went Babson's gavel just as Mr. Tutt was leading Mr. Walsh, Mr. Tompkins and the others through the winding paths of the Argonne forestswith tin helmets on their heads in the struggle for liberty. 

"You may conclude your address in the morning, Mr. Tutt, " said the judgewith supreme unction. "Adjourn court!"

Gray depression weighed down Mr. Tutt's soul as he trudged homeward. Hehad made a good speech, but it had had absolutely nothing to do with thecase, which the jury would perceive as soon as they thought it over. Itwas a confession of defeat. Angelo would be convicted of murder in thefirst degree and electrocuted, Rosalina would be a widow, and somehow hewould be in a measure responsible for it. The tragedy of human lifeappalled him. He felt very old, as old as the dead-and-gone authors fromwhom he had quoted with such remarkable facility. He belonged with them;he was too old to practise his profession. 

"Law, Mis' Tutt, " expostulated Miranda, his ancient negro handmaiden, ashe pushed away the chop and mashed potato, and even his glass of claret, untasted, in his old-fashioned dining room on West Twenty-third Street, "you ain't got no appetite at all! You's sick, Mis' Tutt. "

"No, no, Miranda!" he replied weakly. "I'm just getting old. "

"You's mighty spry for an old man yit, " she protested. "You kin make demlawyer men hop mighty high when you tries. Heh, heh! I reckon dey ain'tgot nuffin' on my Mistah Tutt!"

Upstairs in his library Mr. Tutt strode up and down before the emptygrate, smoking stogy after stogy, trying to collect his thoughts anddevise something to say upon the morrow, but all his ideas had flown. There wasn't anything to say. Yet he swore Angelo should not be offeredup as a victim upon the altar of unscrupulous ambition. The hours passedand the old banjo clock above the mantel wheezed eleven, twelve; thenone, two. Still he paced up and down, up and down in a sort of trance. The air of the library, blue with the smoke of countless stogies, stifled and suffocated him. Moreover he discovered that he was hungry. He descended to the pantry and salvaged a piece of pie, then unchainedthe front door and stepped forth into the soft October night. 

A full moon hung over the deserted streets of the sleeping city. Indivers places, widely scattered, the twelve good and true men weresnoring snugly in bed. To-morrow they would send Angelo to his deathwithout a quiver. He shuddered, striding on, he knew not whither, intothe night. His brain no longer worked. He had become a peripateticautomaton self-dedicated to nocturnal perambulation. 

With his pockets bulging with stogies and one glowing like a headlightin advance of him he wandered in a sort of coma up Tenth Avenue, crossedto the Riverside Drive, mounted Morningside Heights, descended againthrough the rustling alleys of Central Park, and found himself at FifthAvenue and Fifty-ninth Street just as the dawn was paling the electriclamps to a sickly yellow and the trees were casting strange unwontedshadows in the wrong direction. He was utterly exhausted. He lookedeagerly for some place to sit down, but the doors of the hotels weredark and tightly closed and it was too cold to remain without moving inthe open air. 

Down Fifth Avenue he trudged, intending to go home and snatch a fewhours' sleep before court should open, but each block seemed miles inlength. Presently he approached the cathedral, whose twin spires weretinted with reddish gold. The sky had become a bright blue. Suddenly allthe street lamps went out. He told himself that he had never realizedbefore the beauty of those two towers reaching up toward eternity, typifying man's aspiration for the spiritual. He remembered having heardthat a cathedral was never closed, and looking toward the door heperceived that it was open. With utmost difficulty he climbed the stepsand entered its dark shadows. A faint light emanated from the tops ofthe stained-glass windows. Down below a candle burned on either side ofthe altar while a flickering gleam shone from the red cup in thesanctuary lamp. Worn out, drugged for lack of sleep, faint for want offood, old Mr. Tutt sank down upon one of the rear seats by the door, andresting his head upon his arms on the back of the bench in front of himfell fast asleep. 

He dreamed of a legal heaven, of a great wooden throne upon which satBabson in a black robe and below him twelve red-faced angels in a doublerow with harps in their hands, chanting: "Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!" Anorgan was playing somewhere, and there was a great noise of footsteps. Then a bell twinkled and he raised his head and saw that the chancel wasfull of lights and white-robed priests. It was broad daylight. Horrifiedhe looked at his watch, to find that it was ten minutes after ten. Hisjoints creaked as he pulled himself to his feet and his eyes were halfclosed as he staggered down the steps and hailed a taxi. 

"Criminal Courts Building--side door. And drive like hell!" he mutteredto the driver. 

He reached it just as Judge Babson and his attendant were coming intothe courtroom and the crowd were making obeisance. Everybody else was inhis proper place. 

"You may proceed, Mr. Tutt, " said the judge after the roll of the juryhad been called. 

But Mr. Tutt was in a daze, in no condition to think or speak. There wasa curious rustling in his ears and his sight was somewhat blurred. Theatmosphere of the courtroom seemed to him cold and hostile; the jury satwith averted faces. He rose feebly and cleared his throat. 

"Gentlemen of the jury, " he began, "I--I think I covered everything Ihad to say yesterday afternoon. I can only beseech you to realize thefull extent of your great responsibility and remind you that if youentertain a reasonable doubt upon the evidence you are sworn to give thebenefit of it to the defendant. "

He sank back in his chair and covered his eyes with his hands, while amurmur ran along the benches of the courtroom. The old man hadcollapsed--tough luck--the defendant was cooked! Swiftly O'Brien leapedto his feet. There had been no defense. The case was as plain as apike-staff. There was only one thing for the jury to do--return averdict of murder in the first. It would not be pleasant, but that madeno difference! He read them the statute, applied it to the facts, andshook his fist in their faces. They must convict--and convict of onlyone thing--and nothing else--murder in the first degree. They gazed athim like silly sheep, nodding their heads, doing everything but bleat. 

Then Babson cleared his decks and rising in dignity expounded the law tothe sheep in a rich mellow voice, in which he impressed upon them thenecessity of preserving the integrity of the jury system and thesanctity of human life. He pronounced an obituary of great beauty uponthe deceased barber--who could not, as he pointed out, speak forhimself, owing to the fact that he was in his grave. He venomouslyexcoriated the defendant who had deliberately planned to kill anunarmed man peacefully conducting himself in his place of business, andexpressed the utmost confidence that he could rely upon the jury, whosecharacter he well knew, to perform their full duty no matter howdisagreeable that duty might be. The sheep nodded. 

"You may retire, gentlemen. "

Babson looked down at Mr. Tutt with a significant gleam in his eye. Hehad driven in the knife to the hilt and twisted it round and round. Angelo had almost as much chance as the proverbial celluloid cat. Mr. Tutt felt actually sick. He did not look at the jury as they went out. They would not be long--and he could hardly face the thought of theirreturn. Never in his long experience had he found himself in such adesperate situation. Heretofore there had always been some argument, some construction of the facts upon which he could make an appeal, however fallacious or illogical. 

He leaned back and closed his eyes. The judge was chatting with O'Brien, the court officers were betting with the reporters as to the length oftime in which it would take the twelve to agree upon a verdict of murderin the first. The funeral rites were all concluded except for the finalcommitment of the corpse to mother earth. 

And then without warning Angelo suddenly rose and addressed the court ina defiant shriek. 

"I killa that man!" he cried wildly. "He maka small of my wife! He nogood! He bad egg! I killa him once--I killa him again!"

"So!" exclaimed Babson with biting sarcasm. "You want to make aconfession? You hope for mercy, do you? Well, Mr. Tutt, what do you wishto do under the circumstances? Shall I recall the jury and reopen thecase by consent?"

Mr. Tutt rose trembling to his feet. 

"The case is closed, Your Honor, " he replied. "I will consent to amistrial and offer a plea of guilty of manslaughter. I cannot agree toreopen the case. I cannot let the defendant go upon the stand. "

The spectators and reporters were pressing forward to the bar, anxiouslest they should lose a single word of the colloquy. Angelo remainedstanding, looking eagerly at O'Brien, who returned his gaze with a grinlike that of a hyena. 

"I killa him!" Angelo repeated. "You killa me if you want. "

"Sit down!" thundered the judge. "Enough of this! The law does notpermit me to accept a plea to murder in the first degree, and myconscience and my sense of duty to the public will permit me to acceptno other. I will go to my chambers to await the verdict of the jury. Take the prisoner downstairs to the prison pen. "

He swept from the bench in his silken robes. Angelo was led away. Thecrowd in the courtroom slowly dispersed. Mr. Tutt, escorted by Tutt, went out in the corridor to smoke. 

"Ye got a raw deal, counselor, " remarked Captain Phelan, amiablyaccepting a stogy. "Nothing but an act of Providence c'd save thatEyetalian from the chair. An' him guilty at that!"

An hour passed; then another. At half after four a rumor flew along thecorridors that the jury in the Serafino case had reached a verdict andwere coming in. A messenger scurried to the judge's chambers. Phelandescended the iron stairs to bring up the prisoner, while Tutt toprevent a scene invented an excuse by which he lured Rosalina to thefirst floor of the building. The crowd suddenly reassembled out ofnowhere and poured into the courtroom. The reporters gatheredexpectantly round their table. The judge entered, his robes, gathered inone hand. 

"Bring in the jury, " he said sharply. "Arraign the prisoner at the bar. "

Mr. Tutt took his place beside his client at the railing, while thejury, carrying their coats and hats, filed slowly in. Their faces wereset and relentless. They looked neither to the right nor to the left. O'Brien sauntered over and seated himself nonchalantly with his back tothe court, studying their faces. Yes, he told himself, they were aregular set of hangmen--he couldn't have picked a tougher bunch if he'dhad his choice of the whole panel. 

The clerk called the roll, and Messrs. Walsh, Tompkins, _et al. _, statedthat they were all present. 

"Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon a verdict?" inquired theclerk. 

"We have!" replied Mr. Walsh sternly. 

"How say you? Do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?"

Mr. Tutt gripped the balustrade in front of him with one hand and puthis other arm round Angelo. He felt that now in truth murder was beingdone. 

"We find the defendant not guilty, " said Mr. Walsh defiantly. 

There was a momentary silence of incredulity. Then Babson and O'Brienshouted simultaneously: "What!"

"We find the defendant not guilty, " repeated Mr. Walsh stubbornly. 

"I demand that the jury be polled!" cried the crestfallen O'Brien, hisface crimson. 

And then the twelve reiterated severally that that was their verdict andthat they hearkened unto it as it stood recorded and that they wereentirely satisfied with it. 

"You are discharged!" said Babson in icy tones. "Strike the names ofthese men from the list of jurors--as incompetent. Haven't you any othercharge on which you can try this defendant?"

"No, Your Honor, " answered O'Brien grimly. "He didn't take the stand, sowe can't try him for perjury; and there isn't any other indictmentagainst him. "

Judge Babson turned ferociously upon Mr. Tutt:

"This acquittal is a blot upon the administration of criminal justice; adisgrace to the city! It is an unconscionable verdict; a reflection uponthe intelligence of the jury! The defendant is discharged. This court isadjourned. "

The crowd surged round Angelo and bore him away, bewildered. The judgeand prosecutor hurried from the room. Alone Mr. Tutt stood at the bar, trying to grasp the full meaning of what had occurred. 

He no longer felt tired; he experienced an exultation such as he hadnever known before. Some miracle had happened! What was it?

Unexpectedly the lawyer felt a rough warm hand clasped over his own uponthe rail and heard the voice of Mr. Walsh with its rich brogue saying:"At first we couldn't see that there was much to be said for your sideof the case, Mr. Tutt; but when Oi stepped into the cathedral on me waydown to court this morning and spied you prayin' there for guidance Iknew you wouldn't be defendin' him unless he was innocent, and so wedecided to give him the benefit of the doubt. "

Mock Hen and Mock Turtle

 "Oh, East is East and West is West, and never the twain shall meet. " --BALLAD OF EAST AND WEST. 

 "But the law of the jungle is jungle law only, and the law of the pack is only for the pack. " --OTHER SAYINGS OF SHERE KHAN. 

A half turn from the clattering hubbub of Chatham Square and you are inChinatown, slipping, within ten feet, through an invisible wall, fromthe glitter of the gin palace and the pawn-shop to the sinister shadowsof irregular streets and blind alleys, where yellow men pad swiftlyalong greasy asphalt beneath windows glinting with ivory, bronze andlacquer; through which float the scents of aloes and of incense and allthe subtle suggestion of the East. 

No one better than the Chink himself realizes the commercial value ofthe taboo, the bizarre and the unclean. Nightly the rubber-neck carswinging gayly with lanterns stops before the imitation joss house, thespurious opium joint and tortuous passage to the fake fan-tan and farogame, with a farewell call at Hong Joy Fah's Oriental restaurant and thewell-stocked novelty store of Wing, Hen & Co. The visitors see what theyexpect to see, for the Chinaman always gives his public exactly what itwants. 

But a dollar does not show you Chinatown. To some the ivories willalways be but crudely carven bone, the jades the potter's sham, the muskand aloes the product of a soap factory, the joss but a cigar-storeIndian, and the Oriental dainties of Hong Fah the scrappings of a Yankeegrocery store. Yet behind the shoddy tinsel of Doyers and Pell Streets, as behind Alice's looking-glass, there is another Chinatown--a strange, inhuman, Oriental world, not necessarily of trapdoors and stifledscreams, but one moved by influences undreamed of in our banalphilosophies. Hearken then to the story of the avenging of Wah Sing. 

 _'Tis a tale was undoubtedly true In the reign of the Emperor Hwang_. 

In the murky cellar of a Pell Street tenement seventeen Chinamen satcross-legged in a circle round an octagonal teakwood table. To anOccidental they would have appeared to differ in no detail except thatof a varying degree of fatness. An oil lamp flickered before a joss nearby, and the place reeked with the odor of starch, sweat, tobacco, ricewhisky and the incense that rose ceilingward in thin, shaking columnsfrom two bowls of Tibetan soapstone. An obese Chinaman with a walnutlikecountenance in which cunning and melancholy were equally commingled wasspeaking monotonously through long, rat-tailed mustaches, while theothers listened with impassive decorum. It was a special meeting of theHip Leong Tong, held in their private clubrooms at the Great ShanghaiTea Company, and conducted according to rule. 

"Therefore, " said Wong Get, "as a matter of honor it is necessary thatour brother be avenged and that no chances be taken. A much too longtime has already elapsed. I have written the letter and will read it. "

He fumbled in his sleeve and drew forth a roll of brown paper coveredwith heavy Chinese characters unwinding it from a strip of bamboo. 

 _To the Honorable Members of the On Gee Tong:_

 Whereas it has pleased you to take the life of our beloved friend and relative Wah Sing, it is with greatest courtesy and the utmost regret that we inform you that it is necessary for us likewise to remove one of your esteemed society, and that we shall proceed thereto without delay. 

 Due warning being thus honorably given I subscribe myself with profound appreciation, For the Hip Leong Tong, WONG GET. 

He ceased reading and there was a perfunctory grunt of approval fromround the circle. Then he turned to the official soothsayer and directedhim to ascertain whether the time were propitious. The latter tossedinto the air a handful of painted ivory sticks, carefully studied theirarrangement when fallen, and nodded gravely. 

"The omens are favorable, O honorable one!"

"Then there is nothing left but the choice of our representatives, "continued Wong Get. "Pass the fateful box, O Fong Hen. "

Fong Hen, a slender young Chinaman, the official slipper, or messenger, of the society, rose and, lifting a lacquered gold box from the table, passed it solemnly to each member. 

"This time there will be four, " said Wong Get. 

Each in turn averted his eyes and removed from the box a small sliver ofivory. At the conclusion of the ceremony the four who had drawn redtokens rose. Wong Get addressed them. 

"Mock Hen, Mock Ding, Long Get, Sui Sing--to you it is confided toavenge the murder of our brother Wah Sing. Fail not in your purpose!"

And the four answered unemotionally: "Those to whom it is confided willnot fail. "

Then pivoting silently upon their heels they passed out of the cellar. 

Wong Get glanced round the table. 

"If there is no further business the society will disperse after thecustomary refreshment. "

Fong Hen placed thirteen tiny glasses upon the table and filled themwith rice whisky scented with aniseed and a dash of powdered ginger. Ata signal from Wong Get the thirteen Chinamen lifted the glasses anddrank. 

"The meeting is adjourned, " said he. 

 * * * * *

Eighty years before, in a Cantonese rabbit warren two yellow men hadfought over a white woman, and one had killed the other. They hadbelonged to different societies, or tongs. The associates of themurdered man had avenged his death by slitting the throat of one of themembers of the other organization, and these in turn had retaliated thusestablishing a vendetta which became part and parcel of the lives ofcertain families, as naturally and unavoidably as birth, love and death. As regularly as the solstice they alternated in picking each other off. Branches of the Hip Leong and On Gee tongs sprang up in San Franciscoand New York--and the feud was transferred with them to Chatham Square, a feud imposing a sacred obligation rooted in blood, honor and religionupon every member, who rather than fail to carry it out would haveknotted a yellow silken cord under his left ear and swung himself gentlyoff a table into eternal sleep. 

Young Mock Hen, one of the four avengers, had created a distinct placefor himself in Chinatown by making a careful study of New Yorkpsychology. He was a good-looking Chink, smooth-faced, tall and supple;he knew very well how to capitalize his attractiveness. By day heattended Columbia University as a special student in appliedelectricity, keeping a convenient eye meanwhile on three coolies whom heemployed to run The College Laundry on Morningside Heights. By night hevicariously operated a chop-suey palace on Seventh Avenue, wherecongregated the worst elements of the Tenderloin. But his heart was inthe gambling den which he maintained in Doyers Street, and where anyonewho knew the knock could have a shell of hop for the asking, once Mockhad given him the once-over through the little sliding panel. 

Mock was a Christian Chinaman. That is to say, purely for businessreasons--for what he got out of it and the standing that it gave him--heattended the Rising Star Mission and also frequented Hudson House, thesocial settlement where Miss Fanny Duryea taught him to play ping-pongand other exciting parlor games, and read to him from books adapted toan American child of ten. He was a great favorite at both places, for hewas sweet-tempered and wore an expression of heaven-born innocence. Hehad even been to church with Miss Duryea, temporarily absenting himselffor that purpose of a Sunday morning from the steam-heated flatwhere--unknown to her, of course--he lived with his white wife, EmmaPratt, a lady of highly miscellaneous antecedents. 

Except when engaged in transacting legal or oilier business with themunicipal, sociologic or religious world--at which times his vocabularyconsisted only of the most rudimentary pidgin--Mock spoke a fluent andeven vernacular English learned at night school. Incidentally he was thehead of the syndicate which controlled and dispensed the loo, faro, fan-tan and other gambling privileges of Chinatown. 

 * * * * *

Detective Mooney, of the Second, detailed to make good District AttorneyPeckham's boast that there had never been so little trouble with theforeign element since the administration--of which he was anornament--came into office, saw Quong Lee emerge from his doorway inDoyers Street just before four o'clock the following Thursday and slipsilently along under the shadow of the eaves toward Ah Fong'sgrocery--and instantly sensed something peculiar in the Chink's walk. 

"Hello, Quong!" he called, interposing himself. "Where you goin'?"

Quong paused with a deprecating gesture of widely spread open palms. 

"'Lo yourself!" replied blandly. "Me go buy li'l' glocery. "

Mooney ran his hands over the rotund body, frisking him for a possibleforty-four. 

"For the love of Mike!" he exclaimed, tearing open Quong's blouse. "Whatsort of an undershirt is that?" Quong grinned broadly as the detectivelifted the suit of double-chain mail which swayed heavily under his blueblouse from his shoulders to his knees. 

"So-ho!" continued the plain-clothes man. "Trouble brewin', eh?"

He knew already that something was doing in the tongs from hislobby-gow, Wing Foo. 

"Must weigh eighty pounds!" he whistled. "I'd like to see the pill thatwould go through that!" It was, in fact, a medieval corselet of fineststeel mesh, capable of turning an elephant bullet. 

"Go'long!" ordered Mooney finally. "I guess you're safe!"

He turned back in the direction of Chatham Square, while Quong resumedhis tortoiselike perambulation toward Ah Fong's. Pell and Doyers Streetswere deserted save for an Italian woman carrying a baby, and werepervaded by an unnatural and suspicious silence. Most of the shutters onthe lower windows were down. Ah Fong's subsequent story of what happenedwas simple, and briefly to the effect that Quong, having entered hisshop and priced various litchi nuts and pickled starfruit, had purchasedsome powdered lizard and, with the package in his left hand, had openedthe door to go out. As he stood there with his right hand upon the knoband facing the afternoon sun four shadows fell aslant the window and aman whom he positively identified as Sui Sing emptied a bag ofpowder--afterward proved to be red pepper--upon Quong's face; thenanother, Long Get, made a thrust at him with a knife, the effect ofwhich he did not observe, as almost at the same instant Mock Hen felledhim with a blow upon the head with an iron bar, while a fourth, MockDing, fired four shots at his crumpling body with a revolver one ofwhich glanced off and fractured a very costly Chien Lung vase and ruinedfour boxes of mandarin-blossom tea. In his excitement he ducked behindthe counter, and when sufficiently revived he crawled forth to find whathad once been Quong lying across the threshold, the murderers gone, andthe Italian woman prostrate and shrieking with a hip splintered by astray bullet. On the sidewalk outside the window lay the remnants of thebag of pepper, a knife broken short off at the handle, a heavy bar ofsoft iron slightly bent, and a partially emptied forty-four-caliberrevolver. Quong's suit of mail had effectually protected him from theknife thrust and the revolver shots, but his skull was crushed beyondrepair. Thus was the murder of Wah Sing avenged in due and proper form. 

Detective Mooney, distant not more than two hundred feet, rushed back tothe corner at the sound of the first shot--just in time to catch a sideglimpse of Mock Hen as he raced across Pell Street and disappeared intothe cellar of the Great Shanghai Tea Company. The Italian woman wasfilling the air with her outcries, but the detective did not pause inhis hurtling pursuit. He was too late, however. The cellar doorwithstood all his efforts to break it open. 

Bull Neck Burke, the wrestler, who tied Zabisko once on the stage of theold Grand Opera House in 1913, had been promenading with Mollie Malone, of the Champagne Girls and Gay Burlesquers Company. Both heard thefusillade and saw Mock--a streak of flying blue--pass within a few feetof them. 

"God!" ejaculated Mollie. "Sure as shootin', that's Mock Hen--and he'smurdered somebody!"

"It's Mock all right!" agreed Bull Neck. "That puts us in as witnessesor strike me!" And he looked at his watch--four one. 

"Here, Burke, put your shoulder to this!" shouted Mooney from the cellarsteps. "Now then!"

The two of them threw their combined weight against it, the lock flewopen and they fell forward into the darkness. Three doors leading indifferent directions met the glare of Mooney's match. But the fugitivehad a start of at least four minutes, which was three and a half morethan he required. 

 * * * * *

Mock Hen took the left-hand of the three doors and crept along a passageopening into an empty opium parlor back of the Hip Leong clubroom. 

Diving beneath one of the bunks he inserted his body between the lowerplanking at the back and the cellar wall, wormed his way some twelvefeet, raised a trap and emerged into a tunnel by means of which andothers he eventually reached the end of the block and the rooms of hisfriend Hong Sue. 

Here he changed from the Oriental costume according to Chinese etiquettenecessary to the homicide, into a nobby suit of American clothes, put ona false mustache, and walked boldly down Park Row, while just behindhim Doyers and Pell Streets swarmed with bluecoats and excitedcitizenry. 

Hudson House, the social settlement presided over by Miss Fanny andaffected for business reasons by Mock Hen, was a mile and a half away. But Mock took his time. Twenty-five full minutes elapsed before heleisurely climbed the steps and slipped into the big reading room. Therewas no one there and Mock deftly turned back the hand of the automaticclock over the platform to three-fifty-five. Then he began to whistle. Presently Miss Fanny entered from the rear room, her face lighting withpleasure at the sight of her pet convert. 

"Good afternoon, Mock Hen! You are early to-day. "

Mock took her hand and stroked it affectionately. 

"I go Fulton Mark' buy li'l' terrapin. Stop in on way to see dear MissFan'. "

They stood thus for a moment, and while they did so the clock struckfour. 

"I go now!" said Mock suddenly. "Four o'clock already. "

"It's early, " answered Miss Fanny. "Won't you stay a little while?"

"I go now, " he repeated with resolution. "Good-by li'l' teacher!"

She watched until his lithe figure passed through the door, andpresently returned to the back room. Mock waited outside until she haddisappeared. 

Then he changed back the clock. 

 * * * * *

"We've got you, you blarsted heathen!" cried Mooney hoarsely as he andtwo others from the Central Office threw themselves upon Mock Hen on thelanding outside the door of his flat. "Look out, Murtha. Pipe that thingunder his arm!"

"It's a bloody turtle!" gasped Murtha, shuddering

"What's the matter, boys?" inquired Mock. "Leggo my arm, can't yer?What'd yer want, anyway?"

"We want you, you yellow skunk!" retorted Mooney. "Open that door!Lively now!"

"Sure!" answered Mock amiably. "Come on in! What's bitin' yer?"

He unlocked the door and threw it open. 

"Take a chair, " he invited them. "Have a cigar? You there, Emma?"

Emma Pratt, clad in a wrapper and lying on the big double brass bedsteadin the rear room, raised herself on one elbow. 

"Yep!" she called through the passage. "Got the bird?"

Mock looked at Murtha, who was carrying the terrapin. 

"Sure!" he called back. "Sit down, boys. What'd yer want? Can't yertell a feller?"

"We want you for croaking Quong Lee!" snapped Mooney. "Where have youbeen?"

"Fulton Market--and Hudson House. I left here quarter of four. I haven'tseen Quong Lee. Where was he killed?"

Mooney laughed sardonically. 

"That'll do for you, Mock! Your alibi ain't worth a damn this time. Isaw you myself. "

"You saw someone else, " Mock assured him politely. "I haven't been inChinatown. "

"Say, what yer doin' wit' my Chink?" demanded Emma, appearing in thedoorway. "He was sittin' here wit' me all the afternoon, until aboutjust before four I sent him over to Fulton Market to buy a bird. Who'sbeen croaked, eh?"

"Aw, cut it out, Emma!" replied Mooney. "That old stuff won't go here. Your Chink's goin' to the chair. Murtha, look through the place while weput Mock in the wagon. Hell!" he added under his breath. "Won't thismake Peckham sick!"

 * * * * *

Mr. Ephraim Tutt just finished his morning mail when he was informedthat Mr. Wong Get desired an interview. Though the old lawyer did notformally represent the Hip Leong Tong he was frequently retained by itsindividual members, who held him in high esteem, for they had alwaysfound him loyal to their interests and as much a stickler for honor asthemselves. Moreover, between him and Wong Get there existed a curioussympathy as if in some previous state of existence Wong Get might havebeen Mr. Tutt, and Mr. Tutt Wong Get. Perhaps, however, it was merelybecause both were rather weary, sad and worldly wise. 

Wong Get did not come alone. He was accompanied by two other Hip Leongs, the three forming the law committee appointed to retain the bestavailable counsel to defend Mock Hen. In his expansive frock coat andbowler hat Wong might easily have excited mirth had it not been for theextreme dignity of his demeanor. They were there, he stated, to requestMr. Tutt to protect the interests of Mock Hen, and they were prepared topay a cash retainer and sign a written contract binding themselves to abalance--so much if Mock should be convicted; so much if acquitted; somuch if he should die in the course of the trial without having beeneither convicted or acquitted. It was, said Wong Get gently, a matter ofgrave importance and they would be glad to give Mr. Tutt time to thinkit over and decide upon his terms. Suppose, then, that they shouldreturn at noon? With this understanding, accordingly, they departed. 

"There's no point in skinning a Chink just because he is a Chink, " saidthe junior Tutt when his partner had explained the situation to him. "But it isn't the highest-class practise and they ought to pay well. "

"What do you call well?" inquired Mr. Tutt. 

"Oh, a thousand dollars down, a couple more if he's convicted, and fivealtogether if he's acquitted. "

"Do you think they can raise that amount of money?"

"I think so, " answered Tutt. "It might be a good deal for an individualChink to cough up on his own account, but this is a coöperative affair. Mock Hen didn't kill Quong Lee to get anything out of it for himself, but to save the face of his society. "

"He didn't kill him at all!" declared Mr. Tutt, hardly moving a muscleof his face. 

"Well, you know what I mean!" said Tutt. 

"He wasn't there, " insisted Mr. Tutt. "He was way over in Fulton Marketbuying a terrapin. "

"That is what, if I were district attorney, I should call a Mock Henwith a mockturtle defense!" grunted Tutt. 

Mr. Tutt chuckled. 

"I shall have to get that off myself at the beginning of the case, or itmight convict him, " he remarked. "But he wasn't there--unless the juryfind that he was. "

"In which case he will--or shall--have been there--whatever the verbis, " agreed Tutt. "Anyhow they'll tax every laundry and chop-suey palacefrom the Bronx to the Battery to pay us. "

"I'd hate to take our fee in bird's-nest soup, shark's fin, bamboo-shoots salad and ya ko main, " mused Mr. Tutt. 

"Or in ivory chopsticks, oolong tea, imitation jade, litchi nuts andpreserved leeches!" groaned Tutt. "Be sure and get the thousand down; itmay be all the cash we'll ever see!"

Promptly at twelve the law committee of the Hip Leong Tong returned tothe office of Tutt & Tutt. With them came a venerable Chinaman in nativecostume, his wrinkled face as inscrutable as that of a snapping turtle. The others took chairs, but this high dignitary preferred to sit uponhis heels on the floor, creating something of the impression of anancient slant-eyed Buddha. 

Wong Get translated for his benefit the arrangement proposed by Mr. Tutt, after which there was a long pause while His Eminence remainedimmovable, without even the flicker of an eyelid. Then he deliveredhimself in an interminable series of gargles and gurgles, supplementedby a few cough-like hisses, while Wong Get translated with rapiddexterity, running verbally in and out among his words like a carriagedog between the wheels of a vehicle. 

It was, declared Buddha, an affair of great moment touching upon andappertaining to the private honor of the Duck, the Wong, the Fong, theLong, the Sui and various other families, both in America and China. Thelife of one of their members was at stake. Their face required that theproceedings should be as dignified as possible. The price named by Mr. Tutt was quite inadequate. 

Mr. Tutt, repressing a smile, passed a box of stogies. What amount, heinquired through Wong Get, would satisfy the face of the Duck family? Asomewhat lengthy discussion ensued. Then Buddha rendered his decision. 

The honor of the Ducks, Longs and Fongs would not be satisfied unlessMr. Tutt received five thousand dollars down, five more if Mock Hen wasconvicted, three more if he died before the conclusion of the trial, andtwenty thousand if he was acquitted. 

Mr. Tutt, assuming an equal impassivity, pondered upon the matter forabout an inch of stogy and then informed the committee that the termswere eminently satisfactory. Buddha thereupon removed from the folds ofhis tunic a gigantic roll of soiled bills of all denominations andcarefully counting out five thousand dollars placed it upon the table. 

"H'm!" remarked Tutt when he learned of the proceeding. "_His_ face is_our_ fortune!"

 * * * * *

"Look here, " expostulated District Attorney Peckham in his office to Mr. Tutt a month later. "What's the use of our both wasting a couple ofweeks trying a Chinaman who is bound to be convicted? Your time's toovaluable for that sort of thing, and so is mine. We've got three whitewitnesses that saw him do it, and a couple of dozen Chinks besides. Hedoesn't stand a chance; but just because he is a Chink, and to get thecase out of the way, I'll let you plead him to murder in the seconddegree. What do you say?"

He tried to conceal his anxiety by nervously lighting a cigar. He wouldhave given a year's salary to have Mock Hen safely up the river, even ona conviction for manslaughter in the third, for the newspapers weremaking his life a burden with their constant references to the seeminginability of the police department and district attorney's office toprevent the recurrence of feud killings in the Chinatown districts. Whatuse was it, they demanded, to maintain the expensive machinery ofcriminal justice if the tongs went gayly on shooting each other up andincidentally taking the lives of innocent bystanders? Wasn't the lawintended to cover Chinamen as much as Italians, Poles, Greeks andniggers? And now that one of these murdering Celestials had been caughtred-handed it was up to the D. A. To go to it, convict him, and send himto the chair! They did not express themselves precisely that way, butthat was the gist of it. But Peckham knew that it was one thing to catcha Chinaman, even red-handed, and another to convict him. And so did Mr. Tutt. 

The old lawyer smiled blandly--after the fashion of the Hip Leong Tong. Of course, he admitted, it would be much simpler to dispose of the caseas Mr. Peckham suggested, but his client was insistent upon hisinnocence and seemed to have an excellent alibi. He regretted, therefore, that he had no choice except to go to trial. 

"Then, " groaned Peckham, "we may as well take the winter for it. Afterthis there's going to be a closed season on Chinamen in New York City!"

Now though it was true that Mock Hen insisted upon his innocence, he hadnot insisted upon it to Mr. Tutt, for the latter had not seen him. Infact, the old lawyer, recognizing what the law did not, namely that asystem devised for the trial and punishment of Occidentals is totallyinadequate to cope with the Oriental, calmly went about his affairs, intrusting to Mr. Bonnie Doon of his office the task of interviewing thewitnesses furnished by Wong Get. There was but one issue for the jury topass upon. Quong Lee was dead and his honorable soul was with hisillustrious ancestors. He had died from a single blow upon the head, delivered with an iron bar, there present, to be in evidence, marked"Exhibit A. " Mock Hen was alleged to have done the deed. Had he? Therewould be nothing for Mr. Tutt to do but to cross-examine the witnessesand then call such as could testify to Mock's alibi. So he made nopreparation at all and dismissed the case from his mind. He had hardlyseen a dozen Chinamen in his life--outside of a laundry. 

 * * * * *

On the morning set for the trial Mr. Tutt, having been delayed by anaccident in the Subway, entered the Criminal Courts Building only amoment or two before the call of the calendar. Somewhat preoccupied, hedid not notice the numerous Chinamen who dawdled about the entrance orthe half dozen who crowded with him into the elevator, but when Pat theelevator man called, "Second floor!--Part One to your right!--Part Twoto the left!" and he stepped out into the marble-floored corridor thatran round the inside of the building, he was confronted with an unusualand somewhat ominous spectacle. 

The entire hallway on two sides of the building was lined withChinamen! They sat there motionless as blue-coated images, faces front, their hands in their laps, their legs crossed beneath them. If anyoneappeared in the offing a couple of hundred pairs of glinting eyesshifted automatically and followed him until he disappeared, butotherwise no muscle quivered. 

"Say, " growled Hogan, Judge Bender's private attendant, who was thefirst to run the gantlet, "those Chinks are enough to give you theWillies! Their eyes scared me to death, sticking me through the back!"

Even dignified Judge Bender himself as he stalked along the hall, preceded by two police officers, was not immune from a slight feeling ofuncanniness, and he instinctively drew his robe round his legs that itmight not come into contact with those curious slippers with felt solesthat protruded across the marble slabs. 

"Eyes right!" They had picked him up the instant he stepped out of theprivate elevator--the four hundred of them. If he turned and looked theywere seemingly not watching him, but if he dropped his glance they swungback in a single moment and focused themselves upon him. And every oneof them probably had a gun hidden somewhere in his baggy pants! Thejudge confessed to not liking these foreign homicide cases. You nevercould tell what might happen or when somebody was going to get the deathsign. There was Judge Deasy--he had the whole front of his house blownclean out by a bomb! That had been a close call! And these Chinks--withtheir secret oaths and rituals--they'd think nothing at all of jabbing aknife into you. He didn't fancy it at all and, as he hurried along, supremely conscious of the deadly cumulative effect of those beady eyes, he fancied it less and less. What was there to prevent one of them fromgetting right up in court and putting a bullet through you? He shivered, recalling the recent assassination of a judge upon the bench by a Hinduwhom he had sentenced. When he reached his robing room he sent forCaptain Phelan. 

"See here, captain, " he directed sharply, "I want you to keep all thoseChinamen out in the corridor; understand?"

"I've got to let some of 'em in, judge, " urged Phelan. "You've got tohave an interpreter--and there's a Chinese lawyer associated with Tutt &Tutt--and of course Mr. O'Brien has to have a couple of 'em so's he'llknow what's going on. Y' see, judge, the On Gee Tong is helping theprosecution against the Hip Leongs, so both sides has to be more or lessrepresented. "

"Well, make sure none of 'em is armed, " ordered Judge Bender. "I don'tlike these cases. "

Now the judge, being recently elected and unfamiliar with the situation, did not realize that nothing could have been farther from the Orientalmind or intention than an attack upon the officers engaged in theadministration of local justice, whom they regarded merely as nuisances. What these Chinamen supremely desired was to be allowed to settle theirown affairs in their own historic and traditional way--the way of therevolver, the silken cord, the knife and the iron bar. Once enmeshed inAnglo-Saxon juridical procedure, to be sure, they were not averse toletting it run its course on the bare chance that it might automaticallyaccomplish their revenge. But they distrusted it, being brought upaccording to a much more effective system--one which when it wanted topunish anybody simply reached out, grabbed him by the pigtail, yankedhim to his knees and sliced off his head. This so-called Americanjustice was all talk--words, words, words! From their point of viewjudges, jurymen and prosecutors were useless pawns in life's game ofchess. Perhaps they are! Who knows!

When Judge Bender entered the court room it was, in spite of hisinjunction, full of blue blouses. A special panel of two hundredtalesmen filled the first half dozen rows of benches, the others beingoccupied by witnesses both Chinese and white, policemen and themiscellaneous human flotsam and jetsam that always manages somehow orother to find its way to a murder trial. Inside the rail O'Brien, theassistant district attorney, was busy in conversation with three cuelessChinamen in American clothes. At the bar sat Mock Hen with Mr. Tuttbeside him, flanked by Wong Get, Tutt, Bonnie Doon and Buddha. 

The judge beckoned Mr. Tutt and O'Brien to the front of the bench. 

"Is there any chance of disposing of this case by a plea?" he inquired. 

O'Brien looked expectantly at Mr. Tutt, who shook his head. The judgeshrugged his shoulders. 

"Well, how long is it going to take?"

"About six weeks, " answered the old lawyer quietly. 

"What!" ejaculated judge and prosecutor in unison. 

"A day or two less, perhaps, " affirmed Mr. Tutt, "but, likely as not, considerably longer. "

"I shall cut it down as much as I can, " announced the judge, appalled atthe prospect. "I shall not permit this trial to be dragged outindefinitely. "

"Nothing would please me better, Your Honor, " said Mr. Tutt with theshadow of a smile. "Shall we proceed to select the jury?"

The accuracy of Mr. Tutt's prophecy as to the probable length of thetrial was partially demonstrated when it developed that most of thetalesmen had a pronounced antipathy to Chinese murder cases, and adeep-rooted prejudice against the race as a whole. In fact, a certainsubconscious influence affecting most of them was formulated by thethirty-ninth talesman to be rejected, who, in a moment of resentment, burst forth, "I don't mind trying decent American criminals, but I holdit isn't any part of a citizen's duty to try Chinamen!" and was promptlystruck off the jury list. 

"I say, chief, " disgustedly declared O'Brien to Peckham at the noonrecess as they clinked glasses over the bar at Pont's, "you've handed mea ripe, juicy Messina all right! I won't be able to get a jury. We'vebeen at it since ten o'clock and we haven't lured a single sucker intothe box!"

"What's the matter?" inquired the D. A. Apprehensively. 

"I can't quite make out, " answered O'Brien. "But most of 'em seem tohave a sort of idea that to kill a Chinaman ain't a crime but a virtue!"

"Well, don't tell anybody, " whispered Peckham, "but I'm somewhat of thatway of thinking myself. Set 'em up again, John!"

However, by invoking the utmost celerity a jury was at last selected andsworn at the end of the nineteenth day of the trial. As a jury O'Brienconfidentially admitted to Peckham it wasn't much! But what could youexpect of a bunch who were willing to swear that they hadn't anyprejudice against a Chink and would as soon acquit him as a white man?The truth was that they were all gentlemen who, having lost their jobs, were willing to swear to anything that would bring them in two dollars aday. The more days the better! And it is historic fact that during thesixty-nine days of Mock Hen's prosecution not one of them protested atbeing kept away from his wife and children, his business or hispleasure. On the contrary they all slumbered peacefully from ten untilfour--and when the trial ended, on the whole they rather regretted thatit was over, the only genuine opinion regarding the case being that theChinks were all as funny as hell and that Mr. Tutt was a bully old boy. 

The evidence respecting the death of the unfortunate Quong Lee madelittle impression upon them. Seemingly they regarded the story much asthey did that of Elisha and the bears or Bel and the dragon--as a sortof apocryphal narrative which they were required to listen to, but in nowise bound to believe. They were much interested in Quong's suit ofchain mail, however, and from time to time awoke to enjoy the variousverbal encounters between the judge and Mr. Tutt. As factors in theproceedings they did not count, except to receive their two dollars perdiem, board, lodging and hack fare. 

The trial of Mock Hen being conducted in a foreign language, the firstjudicial step was the swearing of an interpreter. The On Gees hadpromptly produced one, whom O'Brien told the court was a very learnedman; a graduate of the Imperial University at Peking, and a Son of theSacred Dragon. Be that as it may, he was not prepossessing in hisappearance and Mr. Tutt assured Judge Bender that far from being whatthe district attorney pretended, the man was a well-known gambler, whomade his living largely by blackmail. He might be a son of a dragon orhe might not; anyway he was a son of Belial. An interpreter was theconduit through which all the evidence must pass. If the official werebiased or corrupt the testimony would be distorted, colored orsuppressed. 

Now he--Mr. Tutt--had an interpreter, the well-known Dr. Hong Su, against whom nothing could be said, and upon whose fat head rested noimputation of partiality; a graduate of Harvard, a writer of note, a--

O'Brien sprang to his feet: "My interpreter says your interpreter is anopium smuggler, that he murdered his aunt in Hong Kong, that he isn't adoctor at all, and that he never graduated from anything except achop-suey joint, " he interjected. 

"This is outrageous!" cried Mr. Tutt, palpably shocked at such language. 

"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" groaned Judge Bender. "What am I to do? I don'tknow anything about these men. One looks to me about the same as theother. The court has no time to inquire into their antecedents. They mayboth be learned scholars or they may each be what the other says heis--I don't know. But we've got to begin to try this case sometime. "

It was finally agreed that in order that there might be no possiblequestion of partiality there should be two interpreters--one for theprosecution and one for the defense. Both accordingly were sworn and thefirst witness, Ah Fong, was called. 

"Ask him if he understands the nature of an oath, " directed O'Brien. 

The interpreter for the state turned to Ah Fong and said somethingsweetly to him in multitudinous words. 

Instantly Doctor Su rose indignantly. The other interpreter was notputting the question at all, but telling the witness what to say. Moreover, the other interpreter belonged to the On Gee Tong. He stoodwaving his arms and gobbling like an infuriated turkey while hisadversary replied in similar fashion. 

"This won't do!" snapped the judge. "This trial will degenerate intonothing but a cat fight if we are not careful. " Then a bright ideasuggested itself to his Occidental mind. "Suppose I appoint an officialumpire to say which of the other two interpreters is correct--and letthem decide who he shall be?"

This proposition was received with grunts of satisfaction by the twoantagonists, who conferred together with astonishing amiability andalmost immediately conducted into the court room a tall, emaciatedChinaman who they alleged was entirely satisfactory to both of them. Hewas accordingly sworn as a third interpreter, and the trial began again. 

It was observed that thereafter there was no dispute whatever regardingthe accuracy of the testimony, and as each interpreter was paid for hisservices at the rate of ten dollars a day it was rumored that the wholeaffair had been arranged by agreement between the two societies, whichdivided the money, amounting to some eighteen hundred dollars, betweenthem. But, as O'Brien afterward asked Peckham, "How in thunder could youtell?"

The court's troubles had, however, only begun. Ah Fong was awhimsical-looking person, who gave an impression of desiring to makehimself generally agreeable. He was, of course, the star witness--if aChinaman can ever be a star witness--and presumably had been carefullyschooled as to the manner in which he should give his testimony. He andhe alone had seen the whole tragedy from beginning to end. He it was, ifanybody, who would tuck Mock Hen comfortably into his coffin. 

The problem of the interpreters having been solved Fong settled himselfcomfortably in the witness chair, crossed his hands upon his stomach andlooked complacently at Mock Hen. 

"Well, now let's get along, " adjured His Honor. "Swear the witness. "

Mr. Tutt immediately rose. 

"If the court please, " said he, "I object to the swearing of the witnessunless it is made to appear that he will regard himself as bound by theoath as administered. Now this man is a Chinaman. I should like to askhim a preliminary question or two. "

"That seems fair, Mr. O'Brien, " agreed the court. "Do you see any reasonwhy Mr. Tutt shouldn't interrogate the witness?"

"Oh, let me qualify my own witness!" retorted O'Brien fretfully. "AhFong, will you respect the oath to testify truthfully, about to beadministered to you?"

The interpreter delivered a broadside of Chinese at Ah Fong, wholistened attentively and replied at equal length. Then the interpreterwent at him again, and again Ah Fong affably responded. It wasinterminable. 

The two muttered and chortled at each other until O'Brien, losingpatience, jumped up and called out: "What's all this? Can't you ask hima simple question and get a simple answer? This isn't a debatingsociety. "

The interpreter held up his hand, indicating that the prosecutor shouldhave patience. 

"_Ah-ya-ya-oo-aroo-yung-ung-loy-a-a-ya oo-chu-a-oy-ah-ohay-tching_!" heconcluded. 

"_A-yah-oy-a-yoo-oy-ah-chuck-uh-ung-loy-oo-ayah-a-yoo-chung-chung-szt-oo-aha-oy-ou-ungaroo--yah-yah-yah!_" replied Ah Fong. 

"Thank heaven, that's over!" sighed O'Brien. 

The interpreter drew himself up to his full height. 

"He says yes, " he declared dramatically. 

"It's the longest yes I ever heard!" audibly remarked the foreman, whowas feeling his oats. 

"Does not that satisfy you?" inquired the court of Mr. Tutt. 

"I am sorry to say it does not!" replied the latter. "Mr. O'Brien hassimply asked whether he will keep his oath. His reply sheds no light onwhether his religious belief is such that it would obligate him torespect an oath. "

"Well, ask him yourself!" snorted O'Brien. 

"Ah Fong, do you believe in any god?" inquired Mr. Tutt. 

"He says yes, " answered the interpreter after the usual interchange. 

"What god do you believe in?" persisted Mr. Tutt. 

Suddenly Ah Fong made answer without the intervention of theinterpreter. 

"When I in this country, " he replied complacently in English, "I b'lieveGees Clist; when I in China I b'lieve Chinese god. "

"Does Your Honor hold that an obliging acquiescence in local theologyconstitutes such a religious belief as to make this man's oath sacred?"inquired Mr. Tutt. 

The judge smiled. 

"I don't see why not!" he declared. "There isn't any precedent as far asI am aware. But he says he believes in the Deity. Isn't that enough?"

"Not unless he believes that the Deity will punish him if he breaks hisoath, " answered Mr. Tutt. "Let me try him on that?"

"Ah Fong, do you think God will punish you if you tell a lie?"

Fong looked blank. The interpreter fired a few salvos. 

"He says it makes a difference the kind of oath. "

"Suppose it is a promise to tell the truth?"

"He says what kind of a promise?"

"A promise on the Bible, " answered Mr. Tutt patiently. 

"He says what god you mean!" countered the interpreter. 

"Oh, any god!" roared Mr. Tutt. 

The interpreter, after a long parley, made reply. 

"Ah Fong says there is no binding oath except on a chicken's head. "

Judge Bender, O'Brien and Mr. Tutt gazed at one another helplessly. 

"Well, there you are!" exclaimed the lawyer. "Mr. O'Brien's oath wasn'tany oath at all! What kind of a chicken's head?"

"A white rooster. "

"Quite so!" nodded Mr. Tutt. "Your Honor, I object to this witness beingsworn by any oath or in any form except on the head of a white rooster!"

"Well, I don't happen to have a white rooster about me!" remarkedO'Brien, while the jury rocked with glee. "Ask him if something elsewon't do. A big book for instance?"

The interpreter put the question and then shook his head. According toAh Fong there was no virtue in books whatever, either large or small. Onsome occasions an oath could be properly taken on a broken plate--alsowhite--but not in murder cases. It was chicken or nothing. 

"Are you not willing to waive the formality of an oath, Mr. Tutt?" askedthe judge in slight impatience. 

"And wave my client into the chair?" demanded the lawyer. "No, sir!"

"I don't see what we can do except to adjourn court until you canprocure the necessary poultry, " announced Judge Bender. "Even then wecan't slaughter them in court. We'll have to find some suitable place!"

"Why not kill one rooster and swear all the witnesses at once?"suggested Mr. Tutt in a moment of inspiration. 

 * * * * *

"My God, chief!" exclaimed O'Brien at four o'clock. "There ain't a whiterooster to be had anywhere! Hens, yes! By the hundred! But roosters areextinct! Tomorrow will be the twenty-first day of this prosecution andnot a witness sworn yet. "

However, a poultryman was presently discovered who agreed simply forwhat advertising there was in it to furnish a crate of white roosters, a hatchet and a headsman's block, and to have them in the basement ofthe building promptly at ten o'clock. 

Accordingly, at that hour Judge Bender convened Part IX of the GeneralSessions in the court room and then adjourned downstairs, where all theprospective witnesses for the prosecution were lined up in a body andtold to raise their right hands. 

Meantime Clerk McGuire was handed the hatchet, and approached the coopwith obvious misgivings. Ah Fong had already given a dubious approval tothe sex and quality of the fowls inside and naught remained but tosubmit the proper oath and remove the head of the unfortunate victim. Alarge crowd of policemen, witnesses, reporters, loafers, truckmen andothers drawn by the unusual character of the proceedings had assembledand now proceeded without regard for the requirements of judicialdignity to encourage McGuire in his capacity of executioner, by profaneshouts and jeers, to do his deadly deed. 

But the clerk had had no experience with chickens and in bashfullygroping for the selected rooster allowed several other occupants of thecrate to escape. Instantly the air was filled with fluttering, squawkingfowls while fifty frenzied police officers and Chinamen attemptedvainly to reduce them to captivity again. In the midst of the mêléeMcGuire caught his rooster, and fearful lest it should escape himmanaged somehow to decapitate it. The body, however, had been floppingaround spasmodically several seconds upon the floor before he realizedthat the oath had not been administered, and his voice suddenly roseabove the pandemonium in an excited brogue. 

"Hold up your hands, you! You do solemnly swear that in the case of ThePeople against Mock Hen you will tell the truth, the whole truth andnothing but the truth so help you God!"

But the interpreter was at that moment engaged in clasping to his bosoma struggling rooster and was totally unable to fulfill his functions. Meantime the jury, highly edified at this illustration of theadministration of justice, gazed down upon the spectacle from thestairs. 

"This farce has gone far enough!" declared Judge Bender disgustedly. "Wewill return to the court room. Put those roosters back where theybelong!"

Once more the participants ascended to Part IX and Ah Fong took his seatin the witness chair. The interpreter's blouse was covered withpin-feathers and one of his thumbs was bleeding profusely. 

"Ask the witness if the oath that he has now taken will bind hisconscience?" directed the court. 

Again the interpreter and Ah Fong held converse. 

"He says, " translated that official calmly, "that the chicken oath isall right in China, but that it is no good in United States, and thatanyway the proper form of words was not used. "

"Good Lord!" ejaculated O'Brien. "Where am I?"

"Me tell truth, all light, " suddenly announced Ah Fong in English. "Goahead! Shoot!" And he smiled an inscrutable age-long Oriental smile. 

The jury burst into laughter. 

"He's stringing you!" the foreman kindly informed O'Brien, who cursedsilently. 

"Go on, Mister District Attorney, examine the witness, " directed thejudge. "I shall permit no further variations upon the established formsof procedure. "

Then at last and not until then--on the morning of the twenty-firstday--did Ah Fong tell his simple story and the jury for the first timelearn what it was all about. But by then they had entirely ceased tocare, being engrossed in watching Mr. Tutt at his daily amusement oftorturing O'Brien into a state of helpless exasperation. 

Ah Fong gave his testimony with a clarity of detail that left nothingto be desired, and he was corroborated in most respects by the Italianwoman, who identified Mock Hen as the Chinaman with the iron bar. Theirevidence was supplemented by that of Bull Neck Burke and Miss Malone, who also were positive that they had seen Mock running from the scene ofthe murder at exactly four-one o'clock. 

Mr. Tutt hardly cross-examined Fong at all, but with Mr. Burke hepursued very different tactics, speedily rousing the wrestler to such acondition of fury that he was hardly articulate, for the old lawyergently hinted that Mr. Burke was inventing the whole story for thepurpose of assisting his friends in the On Gee Tong. 

"But I tell yer I don't know no Chinks!" bellowed Burke, looking morelike a bull than ever. "This here Mock Hen run right by me. My goil sawhim too. I looked at me ticker to get the time!"

"Ah! Then you expected to be a witness for the On Gee Tong!"

"Naw! I tell yer I was walkin' wit' me goil!"

"What is the lady's name?"

"Miss Malone. "

"What is her occupation?"

"She's a gay burlesquer. "

"A gay burlesquer?"

"Sure--champagne goil and gay burlesquer. "

"A champagne girl!"

"Dat's what I said. "

"You mean that she is upon the stage?"

"Sure--dat's it!"

"Oh!" Mr. Tutt looked relieved. 

"What had you and Miss Malone been doing that afternoon?"

"I told yer--walkin'. "

Mr. Tutt coughed slightly. 

"Is that all?"

"Say, watcha drivin' at?"

Mr. Tutt elevated his bushy eyebrows. 

"How do you earn your living?" he demanded, changing his method ofattack. 

Bull Neck allowed his head to sink still farther into the vast bulk ofhis immense torso, strangely resembling, in this position, the fabledanthropophagi whose heads are reputed thus to "grow beneath theirshoulders. "

Then throwing out his jaw he announced proudly between set teeth: "I'm aperfessor of physical sculture!"

The jury sniggered. Mr. Tutt appeared politely puzzled. 

"A professor of what?"

"A perfessor of physical sculture!" repeated Bull Neck with greatsatisfaction. 

"Oh! A professor of physical sculpture!" exclaimed Mr. Tutt, lightbreaking over his wrinkled countenance. "And what may that be?"

Bull Neck looked round disgustedly at the jury as if to say: "Whatignorance!"

"Trainin' an' developin' prominent people!" he explained. 

"Um!" remarked Mr. Tutt. "Who invited you to testify in this case?"

"Mr. Mooney. "

"Oh, you're a friend of Mooney's! That is all!"

Now it is apparent from these questions and answers that Mr. Burke hadtestified to nothing to his discredit and had conducted himself as agentleman and a sportsman according to his best lights. Yet owing to thesubtle suggestions contained in Mr. Tutt's inflections and demeanor thejury leaped unhesitatingly to the conclusion that here was a man soignorant and debased that if he were not deliberately lying he was beingmade a cat's-paw by the police in the interest of the On Gee Tong. 

Miss Malone fared even worse, for after a preliminary skirmish sheflatly refused to give Mr. Tutt or the jury any information whateverregarding her past life, while Mooney, of course, labored from thebeginning to the end of his testimony under the curse of being apoliceman, one of that class whom most jurymen take pride in saying theyhold in natural distrust. In a word, the white witnesses to thedastardly murder of Quong Lee created a general impression ofunreliability upon the minds of the jury, who wholly failed to realizethe somewhat obvious truth that the witnesses to a crime in Chinatownwill naturally if not inevitably be persons who either reside in orfrequent that locality. 

Twenty-four days had now been consumed in the trial, and as yet noChinese witnesses except Ah Fong had been called. Now, however, theyappeared in cohorts. Though Mooney had sworn that the streets werepractically empty at the time of the homicide forty-one Chinesewitnesses swore positively that they had been within easy view, claimingvariously to have been behind doors, peeking through shutters, at upperwindows and even on the roofs. All had identified Mock Hen as themurderer, and none of them had ever heard of either the On Gee or theHip Leong Tong! Mr. Tutt could not shake them upon cross-examination, and O'Brien began to show signs of renewed confidence. Each testified tosubstantially the same story and they occupied seventeen full days inthe telling, so that when the prosecution rested, forty-two days hadbeen consumed since the first talesman had been called. The trial hadsunk into a dull, unbroken monotony, as Mr. Tutt said, of the "vainrepetitions of the heathen. " Yet the police and the district attorneyhad done all that could reasonably have been expected of them. They weresimply confronted by the very obvious fact--a condition and not atheory--that the legal processes of Anglo-Saxon jurisprudence are ofslight avail in dealing with people of another race. 

Now it is possible that even had Mr. Tutt put in no defense whatever thejury might have refused to convict, for there was a curious air ofunreality surrounding the whole affair. It all seemed somehow asif--assuming that it had ever taken place at all--it had occurred insome other world and in some other age. Perhaps under what might havebeen practically a direction of the court a verdict of conviction mighthave been returned--but it is doubtful. The more witnesses testified toexactly the same thing in precisely the same words the less likely itappeared to be. 

But Mr. Tutt was taking no chances and, upon the forty-third day of thetrial, at a nod from the bench, he opened his case. Never had he beenmore serious; never more persuasive. Abandoning every suggestion offrivolity, he weighed the testimony of each white witness and pointedout its obvious lack of probative value. Not one, he said, except theItalian woman, had had more than a fleeting glance of the face of theman now accused of the crime. Such an identification was useless. TheChinamen were patently lying. They had not been there at all! Would anymember of the jury hang a dog, even a yellow one, on such testimony? Ofcourse not! Much less a human being. The people had called fortywitnesses to prove that Mock Hen had killed Quong Lee. It made nodifference. The On Gee could have just as easily produced four hundred. Moreover, Mr. Tutt did a very daring thing. He pronounced all Chinesetestimony in an American court of justice as absolutely valueless, andboasted that for every Chinaman who swore Mock Hen was guilty he wouldbring forward two who would swear him innocent. 

The thing was, as he had carefully explained to Bonnie Doon, to provethat Mock was a good Chinaman and, if the jury did not believe thatthere was any such animal, to convince them that it was possible. Hisfirst task, however, was to polish off the Chinese testimony by callingthe witnesses who had been secured under the guidance of Wong Get. Headmitted afterward that in view of the exclusion law he had not supposedthere were so many Chinamen in the United States, for they crowded thecorridors and staircases of the Criminal Courts Building, arriving incompanies--the Wong family, the Mocks, the Fongs, the Lungs, the Sues, and others of the sacred Hip Sing Society from near at hand and fromdistant parts--from Brooklyn and Flatbush, from Flushing and FarRockaway, from Hackensack and Hoboken, from Trenton and Scranton, fromBuffalo and Saratoga, from Chicago and St. Louis, and each and every oneof them swore positively upon the severed neck of the whitestrooster--the broken fragments of the whitest of porcelain plates--theholiest of books--that he had been present in person at Fulton Market inNew York City at precisely four-fifteen o'clock in the afternoon andassisted Mock Hen, the defendant, in selecting and purchasing a terrapinfor stew. 

Mr. Tutt grinned at the jury and the jury grinned affectionately back atMr. Tutt. Indeed, after the length of time they had all been togetherthey had almost as much respect for him as for the judge upon the bench. The whole court seemed to be a sort of Tutt Club, of which even O'Brienwas a member. 

"Now, " said Mr. Tutt, "I will call a few witnesses to show you what kindof a man this is whom these highbinders accuse of the crime of murder!"

Mock, rolling his eyes heavenward, assumed an expression of infantilehelplessness and trust. 

"Don't overdo it!" growled Tutt. "Just look kind of gentle. "

So Mock looked as gentle as a suckling dove while two professors fromColumbia University, three of his landlords in his more reputablebusiness enterprises, the superintendent of the Rising Sun Mission, fourex-police officers, a fireman, and an investigator for the Society forthe Suppression of Sin swore upon Holy Writ and with all sincerity thatMock Hen was not only a person of the most excellent character andreputation but a Christian and a gentleman. 

And then Mr. Tutt played his trump card. 

"I will call Miss Frances Duryea, of Hudson House, " he announced. "MissDuryea, will you kindly take the witness chair?"

Miss Fanny modestly rose from her seat in the rear of the room and cameforward. No one could for an instant doubt the honesty and impartialityof this devoted middle-aged woman, who, surrendering the comforts andluxuries of her home uptown, to which she was well entitled by reason ofher age, was devoting herself to a life of service. If a woman likethat, thought the jury, was ready to vouch for Mock's good character, why waste any more time on the case? But Miss Fanny was to do much more. 

"Miss Duryea, " began Mr. Tutt, "do you know the defendant?"

"Yes, sir; I do, " she answered quietly. 

"How long have you known him?"

"Six years. "

"Do you know his reputation for peace and quiet?"

Miss Fanny half turned to the judge and then faced the jury. 

"He is one of the sweetest characters I have ever known, " she replied, "and I have known many--"

"Oh, I object!" interrupted O'Brien. "This lady can't be permitted totestify to anything like that. She must be limited by the rules ofevidence!"

With one movement the jury wheeled and glared at him. 

"I guess this lady can say anything she wants!" declared the foremanchivalrously. 

O'Brien sank down in his seat. What was the use!

"Go on, please, " gently directed Mr. Tutt. 

"As I was saying, Mr. Mock Hen is a very remarkable character, "responded Miss Fanny. "He is devoted to the mission and to us at thesettlement. I would trust him absolutely in regard to anything. "

"Thank you, " said Mr. Tutt, smiling benignly. "Now, Miss Duryea, did yousee Mock Hen at any time on May sixth?"

Instantly the jury showed renewed signs of life. May sixth? That wasthe day of the murder. 

"I did, " answered Miss Fanny with conviction. "He came to see me atHudson House in the afternoon and while we were talking the clock struckfour. "

The jury looked at one another and nodded. 

"Well, I guess that settles this case!" announced the foreman. 

"Right!" echoed a talesman behind him. 

"I object!" wailed O'Brien. "This is entirely improper!"

"Quite so!" ruled Judge Bender sternly. "The jurymen will not make anyremarks!"

"But, Your Honor--we all agreed at recess there was nothing in thiscase, " announced the foreman. "And now this testimony simply clinchesit. Why go on with it!"

"That's so!" ejaculated another. "Let us go, judge. "

Mr. Tutt's weather-beaten face was wreathed in smiles. 

"Easy, gentlemen!" he cautioned. 

The judge shrugged his shoulders, frowning. 

"This is very irregular!" he said. 

Then he beckoned to O'Brien, and the two whispered together for severalminutes, while all over the court room on the part of those who had satthere so patiently for sixty-nine days there was a prolonged andecstatic wriggling of arms and legs. Instinctively they all knew thatthe farce was over. 

The assistant district attorney returned to his table but did not sitdown. 

"If the court please, " he said rather wearily, "the last witness, MissDuryea, by her testimony, which I personally am quite ready to accept astruthful, has interjected a reasonable doubt of the defendant's guiltinto what otherwise would in my opinion be a case for the jury. If MockHen was at Hudson House, nearly two miles from Pell and Doyers Streets, at four o'clock on the afternoon of the homicide, manifestly he couldnot have been one of the assailants of Quong Lee at one minute pastfour. I am satisfied that no jury would convict--"

"Not on your life!" snorted the foreman airily. 

"--and I therefore, " went on O'Brien, "ask the court to direct anacquittal. "

 * * * * *

In the grand banquet hall of the Shanghai and Hongkong American-ChineseRestaurant, Ephraim Tutt, draped in a blue mandarin coat with a tasseledpill box rakishly upon his old gray head, sat beside Wong Get and Buddhaat the head of a long table surrounded by three hundred Chinamen intheir richest robes of ceremony. Lanterns of party-colored glassswaying from gilded rafters shed a strange light upon a silken clothmarvelously embroidered and laden with the choicest of Oriental dishes, and upon the pale faces of the Hip Leong Tong--the Mocks, the Wongs, theFongs and the rest--both those who had testified and also those who hadmerely been ready if duty called to do so, all of whom were now gatheredtogether to pay honor where they felt honor to be due; namely, at theshrine of Mr. Tutt. 

Deft Chinese waiters slipped silently from guest to guest withbird's-nest soup, guy soo main, mon goo guy pan, shark's fin and lunghar made of shreds of lobster, water chestnuts, rice and the succulentshoots of the young bamboo, while three musicians in a corner sangthrough their nose a syncopated dirge. "Wang-ang-ang-ang!" it rose andfell as Mr. Tutt, his neck encircled by a wreath of lilies, essayed tomanipulate a pair of long black chop-sticks. "Wang-ang-ang-ang!" Abouthim were golden limes, ginger in syrup, litchi nuts, pickled leeches. 

Then he felt a touch upon his shoulder and turned to see Fong Hen, theslipper, standing beside him. It was the duty of Fong Hen to drink witheach guest--more than that, to drink as much as each guest drank! Hegravely offered Mr. Tutt a pony of rice brandy. It was not the fierylava he had anticipated, but a soft, caressing nectar, fragrant as ifdistilled from celestial flowers of the time of Confucius. The slipperswallowed the same quantity at a gulp, bowed and passed along. 

Mr. Tutt vainly tried to grasp the fact that he was in his own nativecity of New York. Long sleeves covered with red and purple dragons hidhis arms and hands, and below the collar a smooth tight surface of silkacross his breast made access to his pockets quite impossible. In one ofthem reposed twenty one-thousand-dollar bills--his fee for securing theacquittal of Mock Hen. Yes, he was in New York!

The monotonous wail of the instruments, the pungency of the incense, thesubdued light, the humid breath of the roses carried the thoughts of Mr. Tutt far away. Before him, against the blue misty sunshine, rose theyellow temples of Peking. He could hear the faint tintinnabulation ofbells. He was wandering in a garden fragrant with jasmine blossoms andadorned with ancient graven stones and carved gilt statues. The air wassweet. Mr. Tutt was very tired. .. . 

"Let him sleep!" nodded Buddha, deftly conveying to his wrinkled lips adelicate morsel of guy yemg dun. "Let him sleep! He has earned hissleep. He has saved our face!"

It was after midnight when Mr. Tutt, heavily laden with princely giftsof ivory and jade and boxes of priceless teas, emerged from the sidedoor of the Shanghai and Hongkong American-Chinese Restaurant. The skywas brilliant with stars and the sidewalks of Doyers and Pell Streetswere crowded with pedestrians. Near by a lantern-bedecked rubber-neckwagon was in process of unloading its cargo of seekers after the curiousand unwholesome. On either side of him walked Wong Get and Buddha. Theyhad hardly reached the corner when five shots echoed in quick successionabove the noise of the traffic and the crowd turned with one accord andrushed in the direction from which he had just come. 

Mr. Tutt, startled, stopped and looked back. Courteously also stoppedWong Get and Buddha. A throng was fast gathering in front of theShanghai and Hongkong Restaurant. 

Then Murtha appeared, shouldering his way roughly through the mob. Catching sight of Mr. Tutt, he paused long enough to whisper hoarsely inthe lawyer's ear: "Well, they got Mock Hen! Five bullets in him! But ifthey were going to, why in hell couldn't they have done it three monthsago?"

Samuel and Delilah

 "And it came to pass, when she pressed him daily with her words, and urged him, so that his soul was vexed unto death; that he told her all his heart, and said unto her, There hath not come a razor upon mine head; . .. If I be shaven, then my strength will go from me, and I shall become weak and be like any other man. " --JUDGES XVI, 16, 17. 

"Have you seen '76 Fed. ' anywhere, Mr. Tutt?" inquired Tutt, appearingsuddenly in the doorway of his partner's office. 

Mr. Tutt looked up from Page 364 of the opinion he was perusing in "TheUnited States vs. One Hundred and Thirty-two Packages of SpirituousLiquors and Wines. "

"Got it here in front of me, " he answered shortly. "What do you want itfor?"

Tutt looked over his shoulder. 

"That's a grand name for a case, isn't it? 'Packages of Wines!'" hechuckled. "I made a note once of a matter entitled 'United States vs. Forty-three Cases of Frozen Eggs'; and of another called 'United Statesvs. One Feather Mattress and One Hundred and Fifty Pounds ofButter'--along in 197 Federal Reports, if I remember correctly. And yourecall that accident case we had--Bump against the Railroad?"

"You can't tell me anything about names, " remarked Mr. Tutt. "I oncetried a divorce action. Fuss against Fuss; and another, Love againstLove. Do you really want this book?"

"Not if you are using it, " replied Tutt. "I just wanted to show anauthority to Mr. Sorg, the president of the Fat and Skinny Club. Youknow our application for a certificate of incorporation was deniedyesterday by Justice McAlpin. "

"No, I didn't know it, " returned Mr. Tutt. "Why?"

"Here's his memorandum in the Law Journal, " answered his partner. "Readit for yourself":

 Matter of Fat and Skinny Club, Inc. This is an application for approval of a certificate of incorporation as a membership corporation. The stated purposes are to promote and encourage social intercourse and good fellowship and to advance the interests of the community. The name selected is the Fat and Skinny Club. If this be the most appropriate name descriptive of its membership it is better that it remain unincorporated. Application denied. 

"Now who says the law isn't the perfection of common sense?" ruminatedMr. Tutt. "Its general principles are magnificent. "

"And yet, " mused Tutt, "only last week Judge McAlpin granted thepetition of one Solomon Swackhamer to change his name to Phillips BrooksVanderbilt. Is that right? Is that justice? Is it equity? I askyou!--when he turns down the Fat and Skinnies?"

"Oh, yes it is, " retorted Mr. Tutt. "When you consider that Mr. Swackhamer could have assumed the appellation of P. B. Vanderbilt or anyother name he chose without asking the court's permission at all. "

"What!" protested Tutt incredulously. 

"That's the law, " returned the senior partner. "A man can call himselfwhat he chooses and change his name as often as he likes--so long, ofcourse, as he doesn't do it to defraud. The mere fact that a statutelikewise gives him the right to apply to the courts to accomplish thesame result makes no difference. "

"Of course it might make him feel a little more comfortable about it todo it that way, " suggested Tutt. "Do you know, as long as I've practisedlaw in this town I've always assumed that one had to get permission tochange one's name. "

"You've learned something, " said Mr. Tutt suavely. "I hope you will putit to good account. Here's '76 Fed. ' Take it out and console the Fat andSkinny Club with it if you can. "

Mr. Tutt surrendered the volume without apparent regret and Tutt retiredto his own office and to the task of soothing the injured feelings ofMr. Sorg. 

A simple-minded little man was Tutt, for all his professional shrewdnessand ingenuity. Like many a hero of the battlefield and of the bar, onceinside the palings of his own fence he became modest, gentle, eventimorous. For Abigail, his wife, had no illusions about him and did notaffect to have any. To her neither Tutt nor Mr. Tutt was any such greatshakes. Had Tutt dared to let her know of many of the schemes which hedevised for the profit or safety of his clients she would have thoughtless of him still; in fact, she might have parted with him forever. In asense Mrs. Tutt was an exacting woman. Though she somewhat reluctantlyconsented to view the hours from nine a. M. To five p. M. In her husband'sday as belonging to the law, she emphatically regarded the rest of thetwenty-four hours as belonging to her. 

The law may be, as Judge Holmes has called it, "a jealous mistress, " butin the case of Tutt it was not nearly so jealous as his wife. So Tuttwas compelled to walk the straight-and-narrow path whether he liked itor not. On the whole he liked it well enough, but there weretimes--usually in the spring--when without being conscious of what wasthe matter with him he mourned his lost youth. For Tutt was onlyforty-eight and he had had a grandfather who had lived strenuously toupward of twice that age. He was vigorous, sprightly, bright-eyed and ashard as nails, even if somewhat resembling in his contours the late Mr. Pickwick. Mrs. Tutt was tall, spare, capable and sardonic. She made Tuttcomfortable, but she no longer appealed to his sense of romance. Stillshe held him. As the playwright hath said "It isn't good looks theywant, but good nature; if a warm welcome won't hold them, cold creamwon't. "

However, Tutt got neither looks nor cold cream. His welcome, in fact, was warm only if he stayed out too late, and then the later the warmer. His relationship to his wife was prosaic, respectful. In his heart ofhearts he occasionally thought of her as exceedingly unattractive. In aword Mrs. Tutt performed her wifely functions in a purely matter-of-factway. Anything else would have seemed to her unseemly. She dressed in amanner that would have been regarded as conservative even on BeaconHill. She had no intention of making an old fool of herself or ofletting him be one either. When people had been married thirty yearsthey could take some things for granted. Few persons therefore had everobserved Mr. Tutt in the act of caressing Mrs. Tutt; and there werethose who said that he never had. Frankly, she was a trifle forbidding:superficially not the sort of person to excite a great deal ofsentiment; and occasionally, as we have hinted, in the spring Tuttyearned for a little sentiment. 

He did his yearning, however, entirely on the side and within thosehours consecrated to the law. In his wife's society he yearned not atall. In her company he carefully kept his thoughts and his languageinside the innermost circle of decorum. At home his talk was entirely"Yea, yea, " and "Nay, nay, " and dealt principally with politics and thefeminist movement, in which Abigail was deeply interested. 

And by this we do not mean to suggest that at other times or places Tuttwas anything but conventionally proper. He was not. He only yearned tobe, well knowing that he was deficient in courage if not in everythingelse. 

But habit or no habit, likely or unlikely, Mrs. Tutt had no intention oftaking any chances so far as Tutt was concerned. If he did not reachhome precisely at six explanations were in order, and if he came in halfan hour later he had to demonstrate his integrity beyond a reasonabledoubt according to the established rules of evidence. 

Perhaps Mrs. Tutt did wisely to hold Tutt thus in leash considering thecharacter of many of the firm's clients. For it was quite impossible toconceal the nature of the practise of Tutt & Tutt; much of which figuredflamboyantly in the newspapers. Some women would have taken it forgranted under like circumstances that their husbands had acquired atouch at least of the wisdom of the serpent even if they remained quiteharmless. Abigail countenanced no thought of any demoralization in herspouse. To her he was like the artist who smears himself and his smockwith paint while in his studio, but appears at dinner in spotless linenwithout even a whiff of benzine about him to suggest his occupation. SoTutt, though hand and glove in his office with the most notorious of theelite of Longacre Square, came home to supper with the naiveté andinnocence of a theological student for whom an evening at a picture showis the height of dissipation. 

Yet Tutt was no more of a Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde than most of us. Merely, his daily transition was a little more abrupt. And when all issaid and done most of the devices invented by his fertile little brainto further the interests of his clients were no more worthy ofcondemnation than those put forward by far higher-priced and much morecelebrated attorneys. 

Not that Mrs. Tutt was blind to the dangers to which her husband byvirtue of his occupation was exposed. Far from it. Indeed she made ither business to pay periodical visits to the office, ostensibly to seewhether or not it was properly cleaned and the windows washed, but inreality--or at least so Tutt suspected--to find out whether thepersonnel was entirely suitable for a firm of their standing andparticularly for a junior partner of his susceptibilities. 

But she never discovered anything to give her the slightest cause foralarm. The dramatis personae of the offices of Tutt & Tutt werecharacteristic of the firm, none of their employees--except MissSondheim, the tumultous-haired lady stenographer--and Willie, the officeboy, being under forty years of age. 

When not engaged in running errands or fussing over his postage-stampalbum, Willie spent most of his time teasing old Scraggs, the scrivener, an unsuccessful teetotaler. A faint odor of alcohol emanated from thecage in which he performed his labors and lent an atmosphere ofcheerfulness to what might otherwise have seemed to Broadway clients anunsympathetic environment, though there were long annual periods duringwhich he was as sober as a Kansas judge. The winds of March were apt, however, to take hold of him. Perhaps it was the spring in his casealso. 

The backbone of the establishment was Miss Minerva Wiggin. In every lawoffice there is usually some one person who keeps the shop going. Sometimes it is a man. If so, he is probably a sublimated stenographeror law clerk who, having worked for years to get himself admitted to thebar, finds, after achieving that ambition, that he has neither theability nor the inclination to brave the struggle for a livelihood byhimself. Perchance as a youth he has had visions of himself arguing testcases before the Court of Appeals while the leaders of the bar hung uponhis every word, of an office crowded with millionaire clients andservile employees, even as he is servile to the man for whom he laborsfor a miserly ten dollars a week. 

His ambition takes him by the hand and leads him to high places, fromwhich he gazes down into the land of his future prosperity andgreatness. The law seems a mysterious, alluring, fascinating profession, combining the romance of the drama with the gratifications of theintellect. He springs to answer his master's bell; he sits up until allhours running down citations and making extracts from opinions; herushes to court and answers the calendar and sometimes carries thelawyer's brief case and attends him throughout a trial. Three years goby--five--and he finds that he is still doing the same thing. He is nowa member of the bar, he has become the managing clerk, he attends tofairly important matters, engages the office force, superintendstransfer of title, occasionally argues a motion. Five years more go byand perhaps his salary is raised a trifle more. Then one day he awakesto the realization that his future is to be only that of a trustedservitor. 

Perchance he is married and has a baby. The time has come for him tochoose whether he will go forth and put his fortune to the test "to winor lose it all" or settle down into the position of faithful legal hiredman. He is getting a bit bald, he has had one or two tussles with hisbank about accidental overdrafts. The world looks pretty bleak outsideand the big machine of the law goes grinding on heartless, inevitable. Who is he to challenge the future? The old job is fairly easy; theycan't get on without him, they say; here is where he belongs; he knowshis business--give him his thirty-five hundred a year and let him stay!

That is Binks, or Calkins, or Shivers, or any one of those worriedgray-haired men who sit in the outer office behind a desk strewn withpapers and make sure that no mistakes have been made. To them everydoubtful question of practise is referred and they answerinstantly--sometimes wrongly, but always instantly. They know the lastday for serving the demurrer in Bilbank against Terwilliger and whetheror not you can tax a referee's fee as a disbursement in a bill of costs;they are experts on the precise form for orders in matrimonial actionsand the rule in regard to filing a summons and complaint in OneidaCounty; they stand between the members of the firm and disagreeableclients; they hire and discharge the office boys; they do everythingfrom writing a brief for the Supreme Court of the United States down tomaking the contract with the window cleaners; they are the only lawyerswho really know anything and they were once promising young men, whohave found out at last that life and the Sunday-school books are veryfar apart; but they run the works and make the law a gentleman'sprofession for the rest of us. They are always there. Others come, growolder, go away, but they remain. Many of them drink. All of which wouldbe irrelevant, incompetent and immaterial if this were not a legalstory. 

Scraggs had been one of these, but he had also been one of those whodrank, and now he was merely a bookkeeper. Miss Wiggin reigned in hisstead. 

A woman and not a man kept Tutt & Tutt on the map. When this sort ofthing occurs it is usually because the woman in question is the ablestand very likely also the best person in the outfit, and she assumes thecontrol of affairs by a process of natural selection. Miss Wiggin wasthe conscience, if Mr. Tutt was the heart, of Tutt & Tutt. Nobody, unless it was Mr. Tutt, knew where she had come from or why she wasworking if at all in only a semi-respectable law office. Without hersomething dreadful would have happened to the general morale. Everybodyrecognized that fact. 

Her very appearance gave the place tone--neutralized the faint odor ofalcohol from the cage. For in truth she was a fine-looking woman. Hadshe been costumed by a Fifth Avenue dressmaker and done her coiffuredifferently she would have been pretty. Because she drew her gray hairstraight back from her low forehead and tied it in a knob on the back ofher head, wore paper cuffs and a black dress, she looked nearer fiftythan forty-one, which she was. Two hundred dollars would have takentwenty years off her apparent age--a year for every ten dollars; but shewould not have looked a particle less a lady. 

Her duties were ambiguous. She was always the first to arrive at theoffice and was the only person permitted to open the firm mail outsideof its members. She overlooked the books that Scraggs kept and sent outthe bills. She kept the key to the cash box and had charge of the safe. She made the entries in the docket and performed most of the duties of aregular managing clerk. She had been admitted to the bar. She checked upthe charge accounts and on Saturdays paid off the office force. Inaddition to all these things she occasionally took a hand at a brief, drew most of the pleadings, and kept track of everything that was donein the various cases. 

But her chief function, one which made her invaluable was that ofreceiving clients who came to the office, and in the first instanceascertaining just what their troubles were; and she was so sympatheticand at the same time so sensible that many a stranger who casuallydrifted in and would otherwise just as casually have drifted out againremained a permanent fixture in the firm's clientele. Scraggs andWilliam adored her in spite of her being an utter enigma to them. Shewas quiet but businesslike, of few words but with a latent sense ofhumor that not infrequently broke through the surface of her gravity, and she proceeded upon the excellent postulate that everyone with whomshe came in contact was actuated by the highest sense of honor. Sheacted as a spiritual tonic to both Mr. Tutt and Tutt--especially to thelatter, who was the more in need of it. If they were ever tempted tostray across the line of professional rectitude her simple assumptionthat the thing couldn't be done usually settled the matter once and forall. On delicate questions Mr. Tutt frankly consulted her. Without her, Tutt & Tutt would have been shysters; with her they were almostrespectable. She received a salary of three thousand dollars a year andearned double that amount, for she served where she loved and her firstthought was of Tutt & Tutt. If you can get a woman like that to run yourlaw office do not waste any time or consideration upon a man. Her priceis indeed above rubies. 

Yet even Miss Wiggin could not keep the shadow of the vernal equinox offthe simple heart of the junior Tutt. She had seen it coming for severalweeks, had scented danger in the way Tutt's childish eye had lingeredupon Miss Sondheim's tumultous black hair and in the rather rakish, familiar way he had guided the ladies who came to get divorces out tothe elevator. And then there swam into his life the beautiful Mrs. Allison, and for a time Tutt became not only hysterically young again, but--well, you shall see. 

Yet, curiously enough, though we are a long way from where this storyopened, it all goes back to Phillips Brooks Vanderbilt and the Fat andSkinny Club and the right to call ourselves by what names we please. Moreover, as must be apparent, all that happened occurred beyond MissWiggin's sphere of spiritual influence. Yet, had it not, even she couldnot have harnessed Leviathan or loosed the bands of Orion--to saynothing of counteracting the effect of spring. 

When Tutt returned with "76 Fed. " after the departure of Mr. Sorg hefound his partner smoking the usual stogy and gazing pensively down uponthe harbor. The immediate foreground was composed of rectangular roofsof divers colors, mostly reddish, ornamented with eccentrically shapedchimney pots, pent-houses, skylights and water tanks, in addition tovarious curious whistle-like protuberances from which white wraiths ofsteam whirled and danced in the gay breeze. Beyond, in the middledistance, a great highway of sparkling jewels led across the waves tothe distant faintly green hills of Staten Island. Three tiny aeroplaneswove invisible threads against the blue woof of the sky above the NewJersey shore. It was not a day to practise law at all. It was a day tolie on one's back in the grass and watch the clouds or throw one'sweight against the tugging helm of a racing sloop and bite the spindriftblown across her bows--not a day for lawyers but for lovers!

"Here's '76 Fed. ', " said Tutt. 

"What's become of Sorg?"

"Gone. Mad. Says the whole point of the Fat and Skinny Club is in thename. "

"I fancy--from looking at Mr. Sorg--that that is quite true, " remarkedMr. Tutt. He paused and reaching down into a lower compartment of hisdesk, lifted out a tumbler and his bottle of malt extract, which heplaced carefully at his elbow and leaned back again contemplatively. "Look here, Tutt, " he said. "I want to ask you something. Is thereanything the matter with you?"

Tutt regarded him with the air of a small boy caught peeking through aknot hole. 

"Why, --no!" he protested lamely. "That is--nothing in particular. I dofeel a bit restless--sort of vaguely dissatisfied. "

Mr. Tutt nodded sympathetically. 

"How old are you, Tutt?"

"Forty-eight. "

"And you feel just at present as if life were 'flat, stale andunprofitable?'"

"Why--yes; you might put it that way. The fact is every day seems justlike every other day. I don't even get any pleasure out of eating. Thevery sight of a boiled egg beside my plate at breakfast gives me thewillies. I can't eat boiled eggs any more. They sicken me!"

"Exactly!" Mr. Tutt poured out a glass of the malt extract. 

"I feel the same way about a lot of things, " Tutt hurried on. "Specialdemurrers, for instance. They bore me horribly. And supplementaryproceedings get most frightfully upon my nerves. "

"Exactly!" repeated Mr. Tutt. 

"What do you mean by 'exactly?'" snapped Tutt. 

"You're bored, " explained his partner. 

"Rather!" agreed Tutt. "Bored to death. Not with anything special, youunderstand; just everything. I feel as if I'd like to do somethingdevilish. "

"When a man feels like that he better go to a doctor, " declared Mr. Tutt. 

"A doctor!" exclaimed Tutt derisively. "What good would a doctor do me?"

"He might keep you from getting into trouble. "

"Oh, you needn't be alarmed. I won't get into any trouble. "

"It's the dangerous age, " said Mr. Tutt. "I've known a lot ofrespectable married men to do the most surprising things round fifty. "

Tutt looked interested. 

"Have you now?" he inquired. "Well, I've no doubt it did some of 'em aworld of good. Tell you frankly sometimes I feel as if I'd rather liketo take a bit of a fling myself!"

"Your professional experience ought to be enough to warn you of thedangers of that sort of experiment, " answered Mr. Tutt gravely. "It'sbad enough when it occurs inadvertently, so to speak, but when a man inyour condition of life deliberately goes out to invite trouble it's asad, sad spectacle. "

"Do you mean to imply that I'm not able to take care of myself?"demanded Tutt. 

"I mean to imply that no man is too wise to be made a fool of by somewoman. "

"That every Samson has his Delilah?"

"If you want to put it that way--yes. "

"And that in the end he'll get his hair cut?"

Mr. Tutt took a sip from the tumbler of malt and relit his stogy. 

"What do you know about Samson and Delilah, Tutt?" he challenged. 

"Oh, about as much as you do, I guess, Mr. Tutt, " answered his partnermodestly. 

"Well, who cut Samson's hair?" demanded the senior member. 

He emptied the dregs of the malt-extract bottle into his glass andholding it to the light examined it critically. 

"Delilah, of course!" ejaculated Tutt. 

Mr. Tutt shook his head. 

"There you go off at half-cock again, Tutt!" he retorted whimsically. "You wrong her. She did no such thing. "

"Why, I'll bet you a hundred dollars on it!" cried Tutt excitedly. 

"Make it a simple dinner at the Claridge Grill and I'll go you. "

"Done!"

There were four books on the desk near Mr. Tutt's right hand--the NewYork Code of Civil Procedure, an almanac, a Shakesperean concordance anda Bible. 

"Look it up for yourself, " said Mr. Tutt, waving his arm with a gestureof the utmost impartiality. "That is, if you happen to know in what partof Holy Writ said Delilah is to be found. "

Tutt followed the gesture and sat down at the opposite side of the desk. 

"There!" he exclaimed, after fumbling over the leaves for severalminutes. "What did I tell you? Listen, Mr. Tutt! It's in the sixteenthchapter of Judges: 'And it came to pass, when she pressed him daily withher words, and urged him, so that his soul was vexed unto death; That hetold her all his heart, and said unto her, There hath not come a razorupon mine head. ' Um--um. "

"Read on, Tutt!" ordered Mr. Tutt. 

"Um. 'And when Delilah saw that he had told her all his heart, she sentand called for the lords of the Philistines, saying, Come up this once. 'Um-um. "

"Yes, go on!"

"'And she made him sleep upon her knees; and she called for a man, andshe caused him to shave off the seven locks of his head. ' Well, I'll behanged!" exclaimed Tutt. "Now, I would have staked a thousand dollars onit. But look here, you don't win! Delilah did cut Samson's hair--throughher agent. '_Qui facit per alium facit per se!_'"

"Your point is overruled, " said Mr. Tutt. "A barber cut Samson's hair. Let it be a lesson to you never to take anything on hearsay. Always lookup your authorities yourself. Moreover"--and he looked severely atTutt--"the cerebral fluid--like malt extract--tends to become cloudywith age. "

"Well, anyhow, I'm no Samson, " protested Tutt. "And I haven't met anyonethat looked like a Delilah. I guess after the procession ofadventuresses that have trailed through this office in the last twentyyears I'm reasonably safe. "

"No man is safe, " meditated Mr. Tutt. "For the reason that no man knowsthe power of expansion of his heart. He thinks it's reached itslimit--and then he finds to his horror or his delight that it hasn't. Toput it another way, a man's capacity to love may be likened to athermometer. At twenty-five or thirty he meets some young person, fallsin love with her, thinks his amatory thermometer has reached theboiling-point and accordingly marries her. In point of fact ithasn't--it's only marking summer heat--hasn't even registered thetemperature of the blood. Well, he goes merrily on life's way and somefine day another lady breezes by, and this safe and sane citizen, whosupposes his capacity for affection was reached in early youth, suddenlydiscovers to his amazement that his mercury is on the jump and presentlythat his old thermometer has blown its top off. "

"Very interesting, Mr. Tutt, " observed Tutt after a moment's silence. "You seem to have made something of a study of these things. "

"Only in a business way--only in a business way!" Mr. Tutt assured him. "Now, if you're feeling stale--and we all are apt to get that way thistime of year--why don't you take a run down to Atlantic City?"

Now Tutt would have liked to go to Atlantic City could he have gone byhimself, but the idea of taking Abigail along robbed the idea of itsattraction. She had got more than ever on his nerves of late. But hisreply, whatever it might have been, was interrupted by the announcementof Miss Wiggin, who entered at that moment, that a lady wished to seehim. 

"She asked for Mr. Tutt, " explained Minerva. 

"But I think her case is more in your line, " and she nodded to Tutt. 

"Good looking?" inquired Tutt roguishly. 

"Very, " returned Miss Wiggin. "A blonde. "

"Thanks, " answered Tutt, smoothing his hair; "I'm on my way. "

Now this free, almost vulgar manner of speech was in reality foreign toboth Tutt and Miss Wiggin and it was born of the instant, due doubtlessto some peculiar juxtaposition of astral bodies in Cupid's horoscopeunknown to them, but which none the less had its influence. Strangethings happen on the eve of St. Agnes and on Midsummer Night--even inlaw offices. 

Mrs. Allison was sitting by the window in Tutt's office when he came in, and for a full minute he paused upon the threshold while she pretendedshe did not know that he was there. The deluge of sunlight that fellupon her face betrayed no crack or wrinkle--no flaw of any kind--in thewhite marble of its perfection. It was indeed a lovely face, classic inthe chiseling of its transparent alabaster; and when she turned, hereyes were like misty lakes of blue. Bar none, she was the most beautifulcreature--and there had been many--that had ever wandered into theoffices of Tutt & Tutt. He sought for a word. "Wonderful"; that was, it, she was "wonderful. " His stale spirit soared in ecstasy, and left himtongue-tied. In vulgar parlance he was rattled to death, thiscommonplace little lawyer who for a score of years had dealt cynicallywith the loves and lives of the flock of female butterflies whofluttered annually in and out of the office. Throughout that period hehad sat unemotionally behind his desk and listened in an aloof, cold, professional manner to the stories of their wrongs as they sobbed orhissed them forth. Wise little lawyer that he was, he had regarded themall as just what they were and nothing else--specimens of the Cecropia. And he had not even patted them upon the shoulder or squeezed theirhands when he had bade them good-by--maintaining always an impersonaland dignified demeanor. 

Therefore he was surprised to hear himself say in soothing, almostcooing tones:

"Well, my dear, what can I do for you?"

Shades of Abigail! "Well, my dear!" Tutt--Tutt! Tutt!

"I am in great trouble, " faltered Mrs. Allison, gazing in mistyhelplessness out of her blue grottoes at him while her beautiful redlips trembled. 

"I hope I can help you!" he breathed. "Tell me all about it! Take yourtime. May I relieve you of your wrap?"

She wriggled out of it gratefully and he saw for the first time theround, slender pillar of her neck. What a head she had--in its nimbus ofhazy gold. What a figure! His forty-eight-year-old lawyer's hearttrembled under its heavy layer of half-calf dust. He found difficulty inarticulating. He stammered, staring at her most shamelessly both ofwhich symptoms she did not notice. She was used to them in the othersex. Tutt did not know what was the matter with him. He had in factentered upon that phase at which the wise man, be he old or young, turnsand runs. 

But Tutt did not run. In legal phrase he stopped, looked and listened, experiencing a curious feeling of expansion. This enchanting creaturetransmuted the dingy office lined with its rows of calfskin bindingsinto a golden grot in which he stood spellbound by the low murmur of hervoice. A sense of infinite leisure emanated from her--a subtle denial ofthe ordinary responsibilities--very relaxing and delightful to Tutt. Butwhat twitched his very heartstrings was the dimple that came and wentwith that pathetic little twisted smile of hers. 

"I came to you, " said Mrs. Allison, "because I knew you were both kindand clever. "

Tutt smiled sweetly. 

"Kind, perhaps--not clever!" he beamed. 

"Why, everyone says you are one of the cleverest lawyers in New York, "she protested. Then, raising her innocent China-blue eyes to his shemurmured, "And I so need kindness!"

Tutt's breast swelled with an emotion which he was forced to admit wasnot altogether avuncular--that curious sentimental mixture thatmiddle-aged men feel of paternal pity, Platonic tenderness andprotectiveness, together with all those other euphemistic synonyms, thatmake them eager to assist the weak and fragile, to try to educate andelevate, and particularly to find out just how weak, fragile, uneducatedand unelevated a helpless lady may be. But in spite of his half centuryof experience Tutt's knowledge of these things was purely vicarious. Hecould have told another man when to run, but he didn't know when to runhimself. He could have saved another, himself he could not save--at anyrate from Mrs. Allison. 

He had never seen anyone like her. He pulled his chair a little nearer. She was so slender, so supple, so--what was it?--svelte! And she had anair of childish dignity that appealed to him tremendously. There wasnothing, he assured himself, of the vamp about her at all. 

"I only want to get my rights, " she said, tremulously. "I'm nearly outof my mind. I don't know what to do or where to turn!"

"Is there"--he forced himself to utter the word with difficulty--"a--aman involved?"

She flushed and bowed her head sadly, and instantly a poignant ragepossessed him. 

"A man I trusted absolutely, " she replied in a low voice. 

"His name?"

"Winthrop Oaklander. "

Tutt gasped audibly, for the name was that of one of Manhattan's mostdistinguished families, the founder of which had swapped glass beads andred-flannel shirts with the aborigines for what was now the mostprecious water frontage in the world--and moreover, Mrs. Allisoninformed Tutt, he was a clergyman. 

"I don't wonder you're surprised!" agreed Mrs. Allison. 

"Why--I--I'm--not surprised at all!" prevaricated Tutt, at the same timegroping for his silk handkerchief. "You don't mean to say you've got acase against this man Oaklander!"

"I have indeed!" she retorted with firmly compressed lips. "That is, ifit is what you call a case for a man to promise to marry a woman andthen in the end refuse to do so. "

"Of course it is!" answered Tutt. "But why on earth wouldn't he?"

"He found out I had been divorced, " she explained. "Up to that timeeverything had been lovely. You see he thought I was a widow. "

"Ah!"

Mr. Tutt experienced another pang of resentment against mankind ingeneral. 

"I had a leading part in one of the season's successes on Broadway, " shecontinued miserably. "But when Mr. Oaklander promised to marry me I leftthe stage; and now--I have nothing!"

"Poor child!" sighed Tutt. 

He would have liked to take her in his arms and comfort her, but healways kept the door into the outer office open on principle. 

"You know, Mr. Oaklander is the pastor of St. Lukes-Over-the-Way, " saidMrs. Allison. "I thought that maybe rather than have any publicity hemight do a little something for me. "

"I suppose you've got something in the way of evidence, haven't you?Letters or photographs or something?" inquired Tutt, revertingabsent-mindedly to his more professional manner. 

"No, " she answered. "We never wrote to one another. And when we went outit was usually in the evening. I don't suppose half a dozen people haveever seen us together. "

"That's awkward!" meditated Tutt, "if he denies it. "

"Of course he will deny it!"

"You can't tell. He may not. "

"Oh, yes, he will! Why, he even refuses to admit that he ever met me!"declared Mrs. Allison indignantly. 

Now, to Tutt's credit be it said that neither at this point nor at anyother did any suspicion of Mrs. Allison's sincerity enter his mind. Forthe first time in his professional existence he accepted what a ladyclient told him at its face value. Indeed he felt that no one, not evena clergyman, could help loving so miraculous a woman, or that loving herone could refrain from marrying her save for some religious or otherpermanent obstacle He was sublimely, ecstatically happy in the merethought that he, Tutt, might be of help to such a celestial being, andhe desired no reward other than the privilege of being her willing slaveand of reading her gratitude in those melting, misty eyes. 

Mrs. Allison went away just before lunch time, leaving her telephonenumber, her handkerchief, a pungent odor of violet talc, and adisconsolate but highly excited Tutt. Never, at any rate within twentyyears, had he felt so young. Life seemed tinged with every color of thespectrum. The radiant fact was that he would--he simply had to--see heragain. What he might do for her professionally--all that aspect of theaffair was shoved far into the background of his mind. His only thoughtwas how to get her back into his office at the earliest possible moment. 

"Shall I enter the lady's name in the address book?" inquired MissWiggin coldly as he went out to get a bite of lunch. 

Tutt hesitated. 

"Mrs. Georgie Allison is her name, " he said in a detached sort of way. 

"Address?"

Tutt felt in his waistcoat pocket. 

"By George!" he muttered, "I didn't take it. But her telephone number isLincoln Square 9187. "

To chronicle the details of Tutt's second blooming would be needlesslyto derogate from the dignity of the history of Tutt & Tutt. There is asilly season in the life of everyone--even of every lawyer--who can callhimself a man, and out of such silliness comes the gravity of knowledge. Tutt found it necessary for his new client to come to the office almostevery day, and as she usually arrived about the noon hour what was morenatural than that he should invite her out to lunch? Twice he walkedhome with her. The telephone was busy constantly. And the only thorn inthe rose of Tutt's delirious happiness was the fear lest Abigail mightdiscover something. The thought gave him many an anxious hour, cost himseveral sleepless nights. At times this nervousness about his wifealmost exceeded the delight of having Mrs. Allison for a friend. Yeteach day he became on more and more cordial terms with her, and thelunches became longer and more intimate. 

The Reverend Winthrop Oaklander gave no sign of life, however. Thecustomary barrage of legal letters had been laid down, but withouteliciting any response. The Reverend Winthrop must be a wise one, opinedTutt, and he began to have a hearty contempt as well as hatred for hisquarry. The first letter had been the usual vague hint that theclergyman might and probably would find it to his advantage to call atthe offices of Tutt & Tutt, and so on. The Reverend Winthrop, howeverdid not seem to care to secure said advantage whatever it might be. Thesecond epistle gave the name of the client and proposed a friendlydiscussion of her affairs. No reply. The third hinted at legalproceedings. Total silence. The fourth demanded ten thousand dollarsdamages and threatened immediate suit. 

In answer to this last appeared the Reverend Winthrop himself. He was afine-looking young chap with a clear eye--almost as blue asGeorgie's--and a skin even pinker than hers, and he stood six feet fivein his Oxfords and his fist looked to Tutt as big as a coconut. 

"Are you the blackmailer who's been writing me those letters?" hedemanded, springing into Tutt's office. "If you are, let me tell yousomething. You've got hold of the wrong monkey. I've been dealing withfellows of your variety ever since I got out of the seminary. I don'tknow the lady you pretend to represent, and I never heard of her. If Iget any more letters from you I'll go down and lay the case before thedistrict attorney; and if he doesn't put you in jail I'll come up hereand knock your head off. Understand? Good day!"

At any other period in his existence Tutt could not have failed to beimpressed with the honesty of this husky exponent of the churchmilitant, but he was drugged as by the drowsy mandragora. The blatantdefiance of this muscular preacher outraged him. This canting hypocrite, this wolf in priest's clothing must be brought to book. But how? Mrs. Allison had admitted the literal truth when she had told him that therewere no letters, no photographs. There was no use commencing an actionfor breach of promise if there was no evidence to support it. And oncethe papers were filed their bolt would have been shot. Some way must bedevised whereby the Reverend Winthrop Oaklander could be made toperceive that Tutt & Tutt meant business, and--equally imperative--whereby Georgie would be impressed with the fact that notfor nothing had she come to them--that is, to him--for help. 

The fact of the matter was that the whole thing had become ratherhysterical. Tutt, though having nothing seriously to reproach himselfwith, was constantly haunted by a sense of being rather ridiculous anddoing something behind his wife's back. He told himself that hisPlatonic regard for Georgie was a noble thing and did him honor, but itwas an honor which he preferred to wear as an entirely privatedecoration. He was conscious of being laughed at by Willie and Scraggsand disapproved of by Miss Wiggin, who was very snippy to him. And inaddition there was the omnipresent horror of having Abigail unearth hisphilandering. He now not only thought of Mrs. Allison as Georgie butaddressed her thus, and there was quite a tidy little bill at theflorist's for flowers that he had sent her. In one respect only did heexhibit even the most elementary caution--he wrote and signed all hisletters to her himself upon the typewriter, and filed copies in thesafe. 

"So there we are!" he sighed as he gave to Mrs. Allison a somewhatexpurgated, or rather emasculated version of the Reverend Winthrop'svisit. "We have got to hand him something hot or make up our minds tosurrender. In a word we have got to scare him--Georgie. "

And then it was that, like the apocryphal mosquito, the Fat and SkinnyClub justified its attempted existence. For the indefatigable Sorg madean unheralded reappearance in the outer office and insisted upon seeingTutt, loudly asserting that he had reason to believe that if a newapplication were now made to another judge--whom he knew--it would bemore favorably received. Tutt went to the doorway and stood therebarring the entrance and expostulating with him. 

"All right!" shouted Sorg. "All right! I hear you! But don't tell methat a man named Solomon Swackhamer can change his name to PhillipsBrooks Vanderbilt and in the same breath a reputable body of citizens bedenied the right to call themselves what they please!"

"He don't understand!" explained Tutt to Georgie, who had listened withwide, dreamy eyes. "He don't appreciate the difference between doing athing as an individual and as a group. "

"What thing?"

"Why, taking a name. "

"I don't get you, " said Georgie. 

"Sorg wanted to call his crowd the Fat and Skinny Club, and the courtwouldn't let him--thought it was silly. "

"Well?"

"But he could have called himself Mr. Fat or Mr. Skinny or Mr. AnythingElse without having to ask anybody--Oh, I say!"

Tutt had stiffened into sculpture. 

"What is it?" demanded Georgie fascinated. 

"I've got an idea, " he cried. "You can call yourself anything you like. Why not call yourself Mrs. Winthrop Oaklander?"

"But what good would that do?" she asked vaguely. 

"Look here!" directed Tutt. "This is the surest thing you know! Just goup to the Biltmore and register as Mrs. Winthrop Oaklander. You have aperfect legal right to do it. You could call yourself Mrs. Julius Caesarif you wanted to. Take a room and stay there until our young Christiansoldier offers you a suitable inducement to move along. Even if you'reviolating the law somehow his first attempt to make trouble for you willbring about the very publicity he is anxious to avoid. Why, it'smarvelous--and absolutely safe? They can't touch you. He'll come acrossinside of two hours. If he doesn't a word to the reporters will startthings in the right direction. "

For a moment Mrs. Allison looked puzzled. Then her beautiful face brokeinto an enthusiastic classic smile and she laid her little hand softlyon his arm. 

"What a clever boy you are--Sammy!"

A subdued snigger came from the direction of the desk usually occupiedby William. Tutt flushed. It was one thing to call Mrs. Allison"Georgie" in private and another to have her "Sammy" him within hearingof the office force. And just then Miss Wiggin passed by with her noseslightly in the air. 

"What a perfectly wonderful idea!" went on Mrs. Allison rapturously. "Aperfectly wonderful idea!"

Then she smiled a strange, mysterious, significant smile that almosttore Tutt's heart out by the roots. 

"Listen, Sammy, " she whispered, with a new light in those beautifuleyes. "I want five thousand dollars. "

"Five?" repeated Tutt simply. "I thought you wanted ten thousand!"

"Only five from you, Sammy!"

"Me!" he gagged. 

"You--dearest!"

Tutt turned blazing hot; then cold, dizzy and sea-sick. His sight wasslightly blurred. Slowly he groped for the door and closed itcautiously. 

"What--are--you--talking about?" he choked, though he knew perfectlywell. 

Georgie had thrown herself back in the leather chair by his desk and hadopened her gold mesh-bag. 

"About five thousand dollars, " she replied with the careful enunciationof a New England school-mistress. 

"What five thousand dollars?"

"The five you're going to hand me before I leave this office, Sammydarling, " she retorted dazzlingly. 

Tutt's head swam and he sank weakly into his swivel chair. It wasincredible that he, a veteran of the criminal bar, should have been sotricked. Instantly, as when a reagent is injected into a retort ofchemicals and a precipitate is formed leaving the previously cloudyliquid like crystal, Tutt's addled brain cleared. He was caught! Thevictim of his own asininity. He dared not look at this woman who hadwound him thus round her finger, innocent as he was of any wrongdoing;he was ashamed to think of his wife. 

"My Lord!" he murmured, realizing for the first time the depth of hisweakness. 

"Oh, it isn't as bad as that!" she laughed. "Remember you were going tocharge Oaklander ten thousand. This costs you only five. Special ratesfor physicians and lawyers!"

"And suppose I don't choose to give it to you?" he asked. 

"Listen here, you funny little man!" she answered in caressing tonesthat made him writhe. "You'd stand for twenty if I insisted on it. Oh, don't jump! I'm not going to. You're getting off easy--too easy. But Iwant to stay on good terms with you. I may need you sometime in mybusiness. Your certified check for five thousand dollars--and I leaveyou. "

She struck a match and started to light a tiny gold-tipped cigarette. 

"Don't!" he gasped. "Not in the office. "

"Do I get the five thousand?"

He ground his teeth, not yet willing to concede defeat. 

"You silly old bird!" she said. "Do you know how many times you've hadme down here in your office in the last three weeks? Fifteen. How manytimes you've taken me out to lunch? Ten. How often you've called me onthe telephone? Eighty-nine How many times you've sent me flowers?Twelve. How many letters you've written me? Eleven! Oh, I realizethey're typewritten, but a photograph enlargement would show they weretyped in your office. Every typewriter has its own individuality, youknow. Your clerks and office boy have heard me call you Sammy. Why, every time you've moved with me beside you someone has seen you. That'senough, isn't it? But now, on top of all that, you go and hand meexactly what I need on a gold plate. "

He gazed at her stupidly. 

"Why, if now you don't give me that check I shall simply go up to theBiltmore and register as Mrs. Samuel Tutt. I shall take a room and staythere until you offer me a proper inducement to move on. " She giggleddelightedly. "It's marvelous--absolutely safe, " she quoted. "They can'ttouch me. You'll come across inside of two hours. If you don't a word tothe reporters will start things in the right direction. "

"Don't!" he groaned. "I must have been crazy. That was simplyblackmail!"

"That's exactly what it was!" she agreed. "There aren't any lettersexcept these typewritten ones, or photographs, or any evidence at all, but you're going to give me five thousand dollars just the same. Just sothat your wife won't know what a silly old fool you've been. Where'syour check book, Sam?"

Tutt pulled out the bottom drawer of his desk and slowly removed hispersonal check book. With his fountain pen in his hand he paused andlooked at her. 

"Rather than give you another cent I'd stand the gaff, " he remarkeddefiantly. 

"I know it, " she answered. "I looked you up before I came here the firsttime. You are good for exactly five thousand dollars. "

Tutt filled out the check to cash and sent Willie across the street tothe bank to have it certified. The sun was just sinking over the Jerseyshore beyond the Statue of Liberty and the surface of the harborundulated like iridescent watered silk. The clouds were torn intogolden-purple rents, and the air was so clear that one could look downthe Narrows far out to the open sea. Standing there by the window Mrs. Allison looked as innocently beautiful as the day Tutt had first beheldher. After all, he thought, perhaps the experience had been worth themoney. 

Something of the same thought may have occurred to the lady, for as shetook the check and carefully examined the certification she remarkedwith a distinct access of cordiality: "Really, Sammy, you're quite anice little man. I rather like you. "

Tutt stood after she had gone watching the sunset until the west wasonly a mass of leaden shadows Then, strangely relieved, he took his hatand started out of the office. Somewhat to his surprise he found MissWiggin still at her desk. 

"By the way, " she remarked casually as he passed her, "what shall Icharge that check to? The one you just drew to cash for five thousanddollars?"

"Charge it to life insurance, " he said shortly. 

He felt almost gay as he threaded his way through the crowds alongBroadway. Somehow a tremendous load had been lifted from his shouldersHe would no longer be obliged to lead a sneaking, surreptitiousexistence. He felt like shouting with joy now that he could look theworld frankly in the face. The genuine agony he had endured during thepast three weeks loomed like a sickness behind him. He had been afool--and there was no fool like an old one. Just let him get back tohis old Abigail and there'd be no more wandering-boy business for him!Abigail might not have the figure or the complexion that Georgie had, but she was a darn sight more reliable. Henceforth she could have himfrom five p. M. To nine a. M. Without reserve. As for kicking over thetraces, sowing wild oats and that sort of thing, there was nothing in itfor him. Give him Friend Wife. 

He stopped at the florist's and, having paid a bill of thirty-sixdollars for Georgie's flowers, purchased a double bunch of violets andcarried them home with him. Abigail was watching for him out of thewindow. Something warm rushed to his heart at the sight of her. Throughthe lace curtains she looked quite trim. 

"Hello, old girl!" he cried, as she opened the door. "Waiting for me, eh? Here's a bunch of posies for you. "

And he kissed her on the cheek. 

"That's more than I ever did to Georgie, " he said to himself. 

"Why, Samuel!" laughed Abigail with a faded blush. "What's ever got intoyou?"

"Dunno!" he retorted gaily. "The spring, I guess. What do you say to alittle dinner at a restaurant and then going to the play?"

She bridled--being one of the generation who did such things--withpleasure. 

"Seems to me you're getting rather extravagant. " she objected. "Still--"

"Oh, come along!" he bullied her. "One of my clients collected fivethousand dollars this afternoon. "

Tutt summoned a taxi and they drove to the brightest, most glittering ofBroadway hostelries. Abigail had never been in such a chic place before. It half terrified and shocked her, all those women in dresses thathardly came up to their armpits. Some of them were handsome though. Thatslim one at the table by the pillar, for instance. She was really quitelovely with that mass of yellow-golden hair, that startlingly whiteskin, and those misty China-blue eyes. And the gentleman with her, thetall man with the pink cheeks, was very handsome, too. 

"Look, Samuel, " she said, touching his hand. "See that good-lookingcouple over there. "

But Samuel was looking at them already--intently. And just then thebeautiful woman turned and, catching sight of the Tutts, smiledcordially if somewhat roguishly and raised her glass, as did hercompanion. Mechanically Tutt elevated his. The three drank to oneanother. 

"Do you know those people, Samuel?" inquired Mrs. Tutt somewhat stiffly. "Who are they?"

"Oh, those over there?" he repeated absently. "I don't really know whatthe lady's name is, she's been down to our office a few times. But theman is Winthrop Oaklander--and the funny part of it is, I always thoughthe was a clergyman. "

Later in the evening he turned to her between the acts and remarkedinconsequently: "Say, Abbie, do I look as if I'd just had my hair cut?"

The Dog Andrew

 "Every dog is entitled to one bite. "--UNREPORTED OPINION OF THE APPELLATE DIVISION OF THE NEW YORK SUPREME COURT. 

"Now see here!" shouted Mr. Appleboy, coming out of the boathouse, wherehe was cleaning his morning's catch of perch, as his neighbor Mr. Tunnygate crashed through the hedge and cut across Appleboy's parchedlawn to the beach. "See here, Tunnygate, I won't have you trespassing onmy place! I've told you so at least a dozen times! Look at the holeyou've made in that hedge, now! Why can't you stay in the path?"

His ordinarily good-natured countenance was suffused with anger andperspiration. His irritation with Mr. Tunnygate had reached the point ofexplosion. Tunnygate was a thankless friend and he was a great cross toMr. Appleboy. Aforetime the two had been intimate in the fraternal, taciturn intimacy characteristic of fat men, an attraction perhaps akinto that exerted for one another by celestial bodies of great mass, forit is a fact that stout people do gravitate toward one another--and hangor float in placid juxtaposition, perhaps merely as a physical result oftheir avoirdupois. So Appleboy and Tunnygate had swum into each other'sspheres of influence, either blown by the dallying winds of chance ordrawn by some mysterious animal magnetism, and, being both addicted tothe delights of the soporific sport sanctified by Izaak Walton, hadraised unto themselves portable temples upon the shores of Long IslandSound in that part of the geographical limits of the Greater City knownas Throggs Neck. 

Every morn during the heat of the summer months Appleboy would rouseTunnygate or conversely Tunnygate would rouse Appleboy, and each in hisown wobbly skiff would row out to the spot which seemed most propitiousto the piscatorial art. There, under two green umbrellas, like two fatrajahs in their shaking howdahs upon the backs of two white elephants, the friends would sit in solemn equanimity awaiting the evasive cunner, the vagrant perch or cod or the occasional flirtatious eel. They rarelyspoke and when they did the edifice of their conversation--their Towerof Babel, so to speak--was monosyllabic. Thus:

"Huh! Ain't had a bite!"

"Huh!"

"Huh!"

Silence for forty minutes. Then: "Huh! Had a bite?"

"Nope!"

"Huh!"

That was generally the sum total of their interchange Yet it satisfiedthem, for their souls were in harmony. To them it was pregnant ofunutterable meanings, of philosophic mysteries more subtle than those ofthe esoterics, of flowers and poetry, of bird-song and twilight, of allthe nuances of softly whispered avowals, of the elusive harmonies oflove's half-fainting ecstasy. 

"Huh!"

"Huh!"

And then into this Eden--only not by virtue of the excision of anyvertebra such as was originally necessary in the case of Adam--burstwoman. There was silence no longer. The air was rent with clamor; forboth Appleboy and Tunnygate, within a month of one another, took untothemselves wives. Wives after their own image!

For a while things went well enough; it takes ladies a few weeks to findout each other's weak points. But then the new Mrs. Tunnygateunexpectedly yet undeniably began to exhibit the serpent's tooth, theadder's tongue or the cloven hoof--as the reader's literary traditionsmay lead him to prefer. For no obvious reason at all she conceived aviolent hatred of Mrs. Appleboy, a hatred that waxed all the morevirulent on account of its object's innocently obstinate refusal tocomprehend or recognize it. Indeed Mrs. Tunnygate found it so difficultto rouse Mrs. Appleboy into a state of belligerency sufficientlyinteresting that she soon transferred her energies to the more worthytask of making Appleboy's life a burden to him. 

To this end she devoted herself with a truly Machiavellian ingenuity, devising all sorts of insults irritations and annoyances, and adding tothe venom of her tongue the inventive cunning of a Malayan witch doctor. The Appleboys' flower-pots mysteriously fell off the piazza, theirthole-pins disappeared, their milk bottles vanished, Mr. Appleboy's fishlines acquired a habit of derangement equaled only by barbed-wireentanglements, and his clams went bad! But these things might have beenborne had it not been for the crowning achievement of her malevolence, the invasion of the Appleboys' cherished lawn, upon which they lavishedall that anxious tenderness which otherwise they might have devoted to achild. 

It was only about twenty feet by twenty, and it was bordered by a hedgeof moth-eaten privet, but anyone who has ever attempted to induce ablade of grass to grow upon a sand dune will fully appreciate thedeviltry of Mrs. Tunnygate's malignant mind. Already there was a horridrent where Tunnygate had floundered through at her suggestion in orderto save going round the pathetic grass plot which the Appleboys hadstruggled to create where Nature had obviously intended a floral vacuum. Undoubtedly it had been the sight of Mrs. Appleboy with her smallwatering pot patiently encouraging the recalcitrant blades that hadsuggested the malicious thought to Mrs. Tunnygate that maybe theAppleboys didn't own that far up the beach. They didn't--that was themockery of it. Like many others they had built their porch on theirboundary line, and, as Mrs. Tunnygate pointed out, they were claiming toown something that wasn't theirs. So Tunnygate, in daily obedience tohis spouse, forced his way through the hedge to the beach, and daily thewrath of the Appleboys grew until they were driven almost todesperation. 

Now when the two former friends sat fishing in their skiffs they eithercontemptuously ignored one another or, if they "Huh-Huhed!" at all the"Huhs!" resembled the angry growls of infuriated beasts. The worst of itwas that the Appleboys couldn't properly do anything about it. Tunnygatehad, as Mrs. Tunnygate sneeringly pointed out, a perfect legal right topush his way through the hedge and tramp across the lawn, and she didn'tpropose to allow the Appleboys to gain any rights by proscription, either. Not much!

Therefore, when Mr. Appleboy addressed to Mr. Tunnygate the remarks withwhich this story opens, the latter insolently replied in words, form orsubstance that Mr. Appleboy could go to hell. Moreover, as he went byMr. Appleboy he took pains to kick over a clod of transplanted seagrass, nurtured by Mrs. Appleboy as the darling of her bosom, anddesigned to give an air of verisimilitude to an otherwise bare andunconvincing surface of sand. Mr. Appleboy almost cried with vexation. 

"Oh!" he ejaculated, struggling for words to express the full content ofhis feeling. "Gosh, but you're--mean!"

He hit it! Curiously enough, that was exactly the word! Tunnygate wasmean--and his meanness was second only to that of the fat hippopotamahis wife. 

Then, without knowing why, for he had no formulated ideas as to thefuture, and probably only intended to try to scare Tunnygate with vaguethreats, Appleboy added: "I warn you not to go through that hedge again!Understand--I warn you! And if you do I won't be responsible for theconsequences!"

He really didn't mean a thing by the words, and Tunnygate knew it. 

"Huh!" retorted the latter contemptuously. "You!"

Mr. Appleboy went inside the shack and banged the door. Mrs. Appleboywas peeling potatoes in the kitchen-living room. 

"I can't stand it!" he cried weakly. "He's driving me wild!"

"Poor lamb!" soothed Mrs. Appleboy, peeling an interminable rind. "Ain'tthat just a sweetie? Look! It's most as long as your arm!"

She held it up dangling between her thumb and fore-finger. Then, with agroan she dropped it at his feet. "I know it's a real burden to you, deary!" she sighed. 

Suddenly they both bent forward with startled eyes, hypnotized by thepeel upon the floor. 

Unmistakably it spelt "dog"! They looked at one another significantly. 

"It is a symbol!" breathed Mrs. Appleboy in an awed whisper. 

"Whatever it is, it's some grand idea!" exclaimed her husband. "Do youknow anybody who's got one? I mean a--a--"

"I know just what you mean, " she agreed. "I wonder we never thought ofit before! But there wouldn't be any use in getting any dog!"

"Oh, no!" he concurred. "We want a real--dog!"

"One you know about!" she commented. 

"The fact is, " said he, rubbing his forehead, "if they know about 'emthey do something to 'em. It ain't so easy to get the right kind. "

"Oh, we'll get one!" she encouraged him. "Now Aunt Eliza up to Livorniaused to have one. It made a lot of trouble and they ordered her--theselectmen did--to do away with it. But she only pretended she had--shedidn't really--and I think she's got him yet. "

"Gee!" said Mr. Appleboy tensely. "What sort was it?"

"A bull!" she replied. "With a big white face. "

"That's the kind!" he agreed excitedly. "What was its name?"

"Andrew, " she answered. 

"That's a queer name for a dog!" he commented "Still, I don't care whathis name is, so long as he's the right kind of dog! Why don't you writeto Aunt Eliza to-night?"

"Of course Andrew may be dead, " she hazarded. "Dogs do die. "

"Oh, I guess Andrew isn't dead!" he said hopefully "That tough kind ofdog lasts a long time. What will you say to Aunt Eliza?"

Mrs. Appleboy went to the dresser and took a pad and pencil from one ofthe shelves. 

"Oh, something like this, " she answered, poising the pencil over thepad in her lap:

"Dear Aunt Eliza: I hope you are quite well. It is sort of lonely livingdown here on the beach and there are a good many rough characters, so weare looking for a dog for companionship and protection Almost any kindof healthy dog would do and you may be sure he would have a good home. Hoping to see you soon. Your affectionate niece, Bashemath. "

"I hope she'll send us Andrew, " said Appleboy fervently. 

"I guess she will!" nodded Bashemath. 

 * * * * *

"What on earth is that sign?" wrathfully demanded Mrs. Tunnygate onemorning about a week later as she looked across the Appleboys' lawn fromher kitchen window. "Can you read it, Herman?"

Herman stopped trying to adjust his collar and went out on the piazza. 

"Something about 'dog', " he declared finally. 

"Dog!" she exclaimed. "They haven't got a dog!"

"Well, " he remarked, "that's what the sign says: 'Beware of the dog'!And there's something above it. Oh! 'No crossing this property. Trespassing forbidden. '"

"What impudence!" avowed Mrs. Tunnygate. "Did you ever know suchpeople! First they try and take land that don't belong to them, and thenthey go and lie about having a dog. Where are they, anyway?"

"I haven't seen 'em this morning, " he answered. "Maybe they've gone awayand put up the sign so we won't go over. Think that'll stop us!"

"In that case they've got another think comin'!" she retorted angrily. "I've a good mind to have you go over and tear up the whole place!"

"'N pull up the hedge?" he concurred eagerly. "Good chance!"

Indeed, to Mr. Tunnygate it seemed the supreme opportunity both todistinguish himself in the eyes of his blushing bride and to gratifythat perverse instinct inherited from our cave-dwelling ancestors todestroy utterly--in order, perhaps, that they may never seek to avengethemselves upon us--those whom we have wronged. Accordingly Mr. Tunnygate girded himself with his suspenders, and with a gleam offiendish exultation in his eye stealthily descended from his porch andcrossed to the hole in the hedge. No one was in sight except twobarefooted searchers after clams a few hundred yards farther up thebeach and a man working in a field half a mile away. The bay shimmeredin the broiling August sun and from a distant grove came the rattle andwheeze of locusts. Throggs Neck blazed in silence, and utterly silentwas the house of Appleboy. 

With an air of bravado, but with a slightly accelerated heartbeat, Tunnygate thrust himself through the hole in the hedge and lookedscornfully about the Appleboy lawn. A fierce rage worked through hisveins. A lawn! What effrontery! What business had these condescendingsecond-raters to presume to improve a perfectly good beach which wassatisfactory to other folks? He'd show 'em! He took a step in thedirection of the transplanted sea grass. Unexpectedly the door of theAppleboy kitchen opened. 

"I warned you!" enunciated Mr. Appleboy with unnatural calmness, whichwith another background might have struck almost anybody as suspicious. 

"Huh!" returned the startled Tunnygate, forced under the circumstancesto assume a nonchalance that he did not altogether feel. "You!"

"Well, " repeated Mr. Appleboy. "Don't ever say I didn't!"

"Pshaw!" ejaculated Mr. Tunnygate disdainfully. 

With premeditation and deliberation, and with undeniable maliceaforethought, he kicked the nearest bunch of sea grass several feet inthe air. His violence carried his leg high in the air and he partiallylost his equilibrium. Simultaneously a white streak shot from beneaththe porch and something like a red-hot poker thrust itself savagely intoan extremely tender part of his anatomy. 

"Ouch! O--o--oh!" he yelled in agony. "Oh!"

"Come here, Andrew!" said Mr. Appleboy mildly. "Good doggy! Come here!"

But Andrew paid no attention. He had firmly affixed himself to the baseof Mr. Tunnygate's personality without any intention of beingimmediately detached. And he had selected that place, taken aim, anddischarged himself with an air of confidence and skill begotten oflifelong experience. 

"Oh! O--o--oh!" screamed Tunnygate, turning wildly and clawing throughthe hedge, dragging Andrew after him. "Oh! O--oh!"

Mrs. Tunnygate rushed to the door in time to see her spouse lumbering upthe beach with a white object gyrating in the air behind him. 

"What's the matter?" she called out languidly. Then perceiving thematter she hastily followed. The Appleboys were standing on their lawnviewing the whole proceeding with ostentatious indifference. 

Up the beach fled Tunnygate, his cries becoming fainter and fainter. Thetwo clam diggers watched him curiously, but made no attempt to go to hisassistance. The man in the field leaned luxuriously upon his hoe andsurrendered himself to unalloyed delight. Tunnygate was now but a whiteflicker against the distant sand. His wails had a dying fall:"O--o--oh!"

"Well, we warned him!" remarked Mr. Appleboy to Bashemath with a smilein which, however, lurked a slight trace of apprehension. 

"We certainly did!" she replied. Then after a moment she added a trifleanxiously: "I wonder what will happen to Andrew!"

Tunnygate did not return. Neither did Andrew. Secluded in their kitchenliving-room the Appleboys heard a motor arrive and through a crack inthe door saw it carry Mrs. Tunnygate away bedecked as for some momentousceremonial. At four o'clock, while Appleboy was digging bait, heobserved another motor making its wriggly way along the dunes. It wasfitted longitudinally with seats, had a wire grating and was marked"N. Y. P. D. " Two policemen in uniform sat in front. Instinctively Appleboyrealized that the gods had called him. His heart sank among the clams. Slowly he made his way back to the lawn where the wagon had stoppedoutside the hedge. 

"Hey there!" called out the driver. "Is your name Appleboy?"

Appleboy nodded. 

"Put your coat on, then, and come along, " directed the other. "I've gota warrant for you. "

"Warrant?" stammered Appleboy dizzily. 

"What's that?" cried Bashemath, appearing at the door. "Warrant forwhat?"

The officer slowly descended and handed Appleboy a paper. 

"For assault, " he replied. "I guess you know what for, all right!"

"We haven't assaulted anybody, " protested Mrs. Appleboy heatedly. "Andrew--"

"You can explain all that to the judge, " retorted the cop. "Meantime puton your duds and climb in. If you don't expect to spend the night at thestation you'd better bring along the deed of your house so you can givebail. "

"But who's the warrant for?" persisted Mrs. Appleboy. 

"For Enoch Appleboy, " retorted the cop wearily. "Can't you read?"

"But Enoch didn't do a thing!" she declared. "It was Andrew!"

"Who's Andrew?" inquired the officer of the law mistrustfully. 

"Andrew's a dog, " she explained. 

 * * * * *

"Mr. Tutt, " announced Tutt, leaning against his senior partner's doorjamb with a formal-looking paper in his hand, "I have landed a casethat will delight your legal soul. "

"Indeed?" queried the elder lawyer. "I have never differentiated betweenmy legal soul and any other I may possess. However, I assume from yourremark that we have been retained in a matter presenting some peculiarlyabsurd, archaic or otherwise interesting doctrine of law?"

"Not directly, " responded Tutt. "Though you will doubtless find itentertaining enough, but indirectly--atmospherically so to speak--ittouches upon doctrines of jurisprudence, of religion and of philosophy, replete with historic fascination. "

"Good!" exclaimed Mr. Tutt, laying down his stogy. "What kind of a caseis it?"

"It's a dog case!" said the junior partner, waving the paper. "The dogbit somebody. "

"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Tutt, perceptibly brightening. "Doubtless we shallfind a precedent in Oliver Goldsmith's famous elegy:

 "And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree. "

"Only, " explained Tutt, "in this case, though the man recovered of thebite, the dog refused to die!"

"And so they want to prosecute the dog? It can't be done. An animalhasn't been brought to the bar of justice for several centuries. "

"No, no!" interrupted Tutt. "They don't--"

"There was a case, " went on Mr. Tutt reminiscently "Let me see--atSauvigny, I think it was--about 1457, when they tried a sow and threepigs for killing a child. The court assigned a lawyer to defend her, butlike many assigned counsel he couldn't think of anything to say in herbehalf. As regards the little pigs he did enter the plea that no animuswas shown, that they had merely followed the example of their mother, and that at worst they were under age and irresponsible. However, thecourt found them all guilty, and the sow was publicly hanged in themarket place. "

"What did they do with the three little pigs?" inquired Tutt with someinterest. 

"They were pardoned on account of their extreme youth, " said Mr. Tutt, "and turned loose again--with a warning. "

"I'm glad of that!" sighed Tutt. "Is that a real case?"

"Absolutely, " replied his partner. "I've read it in the Sauvignyrecords. "

"I'll be hanged!" exclaimed Tutt. "I never knew that animals were everheld personally responsible. "

"Why, of course they were!" said Mr. Tutt. "Why shouldn't they be? Ifanimals have souls why shouldn't they be responsible for their acts?"

"But they haven't any souls!" protested Tutt. 

"Haven't they now?" remarked the elder lawyer. "I've seen many an oldhorse that had a great deal more conscience than his master. And ongeneral principles wouldn't it be far more just and humane to have thelaw deal with a vicious animal that had injured somebody than to leaveits punishment to an irresponsible and arbitrary owner who might beguilty of extreme brutality?"

"If the punishment would do any good--yes!" agreed Tutt. 

"Well, who knows?" meditated Mr. Tutt. "I wonder if it ever does anygood? But anybody would have to agree that responsibility for one's actsshould depend upon the degree of one's intelligence--and from that pointof view many of our friends are really much less responsible thansheep. "

"Which, as you so sagely point out, would, however be a poor reason forletting their families punish them in case they did wrong. Just thinkhow such a privilege might be abused! If Uncle John didn't behavehimself as his nephews thought proper they could simply set upon him andbriskly beat him up. "

"Yes, of course, the law even to-day recognizes the right to exercisephysical discipline within the family. Even homicide is excusable, underSection 1054 of our code, when committed in lawfully correcting a childor servant. "

"That's a fine relic of barbarism!" remarked Tutt. "But the child soonpasses through that dangerous zone and becomes entitled to be tried forhis offenses by a jury of his peers; the animal never does. "

"Well, an animal couldn't be tried by a jury of his peers, anyhow, " saidMr. Tutt. 

"I've seen juries that were more like nanny goats than men!" commentatedTutt. "I'd like to see some of our clients tried by juries of geese orwoodchucks. "

"The field of criminal responsibility is the No Man's Land of the law, "mused Mr. Tutt. "Roughly, mental capacity to understand the nature ofone's acts is the test, but it is applied arbitrarily in the case ofhuman beings and a mere point of time is taken beyond which, irrespective of his actual intelligence, a man is held accountable forwhatever he does. Of course that is theoretically unsound. The moreintelligent a person is the more responsible he should be held to be andthe higher the quality of conduct demanded of him by his fellows. Yetafter twenty-one all are held equally responsible--unless they'reactually insane. It isn't equity! In theory no man or animal should besubject to the power of discretionary punishment on the part ofanother--even his own father or master. I've often wondered what earthlyright we have to make the animals work for us--to bind them to slaverywhen we denounce slavery as a crime. It would horrify us to see a humanbeing put up and sold at auction. Yet we tear the families of animalsapart, subject them to lives of toil, and kill them whenever we see fit. We say we do this because their intelligence is limited and they cannotexercise any discrimination in their conduct, that they are always inthe zone of irresponsibility and so have no rights. But I've seenanimals that were shrewder than men, and men who were vastly lessintelligent than animals. "

"Right-o!" assented Tutt. "Take Scraggs, for instance. He's no moreresponsible than a chipmunk. "

"Nevertheless, the law has always been consistent, " said Mr. Tutt, "andhas never discriminated between animals any more than it has between menon the ground of varying degrees of intelligence. They used to try 'emall, big and little, wild and domesticated, mammals and invertebrates. "

"Oh, come!" exclaimed Tutt. "I may not know much law, but--"

"Between 1120 and 1740 they prosecuted in France alone no less thanninety-two animals. The last one was a cow. "

"A cow hasn't much intelligence, " observed Tutt. 

"And they tried fleas, " added Mr. Tutt. 

"They have a lot!" commented his junior partner. "I knew a flea once, who--"

"They had a regular form of procedure, " continued Mr. Tutt, brushing theflea aside, "which was adhered to with the utmost technical accuracy. You could try an individual animal, either in person or by proxy, or youcould try a whole family, swarm or herd. If a town was infested by rats, for example, they first assigned counsel--an advocate, he wascalled--and then the defendants were summoned three times publicly toappear. If they didn't show up on the third and last call they weretried _in absentia_, and if convicted were ordered out of the countrybefore a certain date under penalty of being exorcised. "

"What happened if they were exorcised?" asked Tutt curiously. 

"It depended a good deal on the local power of Satan, " answered the oldlawyer dryly. "Sometimes they became even more prolific and destructivethan they were before, and sometimes they promptly died. All the leecheswere prosecuted at Lausanne in 1451. A few selected representativeswere brought into court, tried, convicted and ordered to depart withina fixed period. Maybe they didn't fully grasp their obligations orperhaps were just acting contemptuously, but they didn't depart and sowere promptly exorcised. Immediately they began to die off and beforelong there were none left in the country. "

"I know some rats and mice I'd like to have exorcised, " mused Tutt. 

"At Autun in the fifteenth century the rats won their case, " said Mr. Tutt. 

"Who got 'em off?" asked Tutt. 

"M. Chassensée, the advocate appointed to defend them. They had been agreat nuisance and were ordered to appear in court. But none of themturned up. M. Chassensée therefore argued that a default should not betaken because _all_ the rats had been summoned, and some were either soyoung or so old and decrepit that they needed more time. The courtthereupon granted him an extension. However, they didn't arrive on theday set, and this time their lawyer claimed that they were under duressand restrained by bodily fear--of the townspeople's cats. That all thesecats, therefore should first be bound over to keep the peace! The courtadmitted the reasonableness of this, but the townsfolk refused to beresponsible for their cats and the judge dismissed the case!"

"What did Chassensée get out of it?" inquired Tutt. 

"There is no record of who paid him or what was his fee. "

"He was a pretty slick lawyer, " observed Tutt. "Did they ever trybirds?"

"Oh, yes!" answered Mr. Tutt. "They tried a cock at Basel in 1474--forthe crime of laying an egg. "

"Why was that a crime?" asked Tutt. "I should call it a _tour deforce_. "

"Be that as it may, " said his partner, "from a cock's egg is hatched thecockatrice, or basilisk, the glance of whose eye turns the beholder tostone. Therefore they tried the cock, found him guilty and burned himand his egg together at the stake. That is why cocks don't lay eggsnow. "

"I'm glad to know that, " said Tutt. "When did they give up tryinganimals?"

"Nearly two hundred years ago, " answered Mr. Tutt. "But for some timeafter that they continued to try inanimate objects for causing injury topeople. I've heard they tried one of the first locomotives that ran overa man and declared it forfeit to the crown as a deodand. "

"I wonder if you couldn't get 'em to try Andrew, " hazarded Tutt, "andmaybe declare him forfeited to somebody as a deodand. "

"Deodand means 'given to God, '" explained Mr. Tutt. 

"Well, I'd give Andrew to God--if God would take him, " declared Tuttdevoutly. 

"But who is Andrew?" asked Mr. Tutt. 

"Andrew is a dog, " said Tutt, "who bit one Tunnygate, and now the GrandJury have indicted not the dog, as it is clear from your historicaldisquisition they should have done, but the dog's owner, Mr. EnochAppleboy. "

"What for?"

"Assault in the second degree with a dangerous weapon. "

"What was the weapon?" inquired Mr. Tutt simply. 

"The dog. "

"What are you talking about?" cried Mr. Tutt. "What nonsense!"

"Yes, it is nonsense!" agreed Tutt. "But they've done it all the same. Read it for yourself!" And he handed Mr. Tutt the indictment. 

 * * * * *

"The Grand Jury of the County of New York by this indictment accuseEnoch Appleboy of the crime of assault in the second degree, committedas follows:

"Said Enoch Appleboy, late of the Borough of Bronx, City and Countyaforesaid, on the 21st day of July, in the year of our Lord onethousand nine hundred and fifteen, at the Borough and County aforesaid, with force and arms in and upon one Herman Tunnygate, in the peace ofthe State and People then and there being, feloniously did willfully andwrongfully make an assault in and upon the legs and body of him the saidHerman Tunnygate, by means of a certain dangerous weapon, to wit: onedog, of the form, style and breed known as 'bull, ' being of the name of'Andrew, ' then and there being within control of the said EnochAppleboy, which said dog, being of the name of 'Andrew, ' the said EnochAppleboy did then and there feloniously, willfully and wrongfullyincite, provoke, and encourage, then and there being, to bite him, thesaid Herman Tunnygate, by means whereof said dog 'Andrew' did then andthere grievously bite the said Herman Tunnygate in and upon the legs andbody of him, the said Herman Tunnygate, and the said Enoch Appleboy thusthen and there feloniously did willfully and wrongfully cut, tear, lacerate and bruise, and did then and there by the means of the dog'Andrew' aforesaid feloniously, willfully and wrongfully inflictgrievous bodily harm upon the said Herman Tunnygate, against the form ofthe statute in such case made and provided, and against the peace of thePeople of the State of New York and their dignity. "

"That, " asserted Mr. Tutt, wiping his spectacles, "is a document worthyof preservation in the Congressional Library. Who drew it?"

"Don't know, " answered Tutt, "but whoever he was he was a humorist!"

"It's no good. There isn't any allegation of _scienter_ in it, " affirmedMr. Tutt. 

"What of it? It says he assaulted Tunnygate with a dangerous weapon. Youdon't have to set forth that he knew it was a dangerous weapon if youassert that he did it willfully. You don't have to allege in anindictment charging an assault with a pistol that the defendant knew itwas loaded. "

"But a dog is different!" reasoned Mr. Tutt. "A dog is not _per se_ adangerous weapon. Saying so doesn't make it so, and that part of theindictment is bad on its face--unless, to be sure, it means that he hithim with a dead dog, which it is clear from the context that he didn't. The other part--that he set the dog on him--lacks the allegation thatthe dog was vicious and that Appleboy knew it; in other words anallegation of _scienter_. It ought to read that said Enoch Appleboy'well knowing that said dog Andrew was a dangerous and ferocious animaland would, if incited, provoked and encouraged, bite the legs and bodyof him the said Herman--did then and there feloniously, willfully andwrongfully incite, provoke and encourage the said Andrew, and soforth. '"

"I get you!" exclaimed Tutt enthusiastically. "Of course an allegationof _scienter_ is necessary! In other words you could demur to theindictment for insufficiency?"

Mr. Tutt nodded. 

"But in that case they'd merely go before the Grand Jury and findanother--a good one. It's much better to try and knock the case out onthe trial once and for all. "

"Well, the Appleboys are waiting to see you, " said Tutt. "They are in myoffice. Bonnie Doon got the case for us off his local district leader, who's a member of the same lodge of the Abyssinian Mysteries--Bonnie'sbeen Supreme Exalted Ruler of the Purple Mountain for over a year--andhe's pulled in quite a lot of good stuff, not all dog cases either!Appleboy's an Abyssinian too. "

"I'll see them, " consented Mr. Tutt, "but I'm going to have you try thecase. I shall insist upon acting solely in an advisory capacity. Dogtrials aren't in my line. There are some things which are _infradig_--even for Ephraim Tutt. "

 * * * * *

Mr. Appleboy sat stolidly at the bar of justice, pale but resolute. Beside him sat Mrs. Appleboy, also pale but even more resolute. A juryhad been selected without much manifest attention by Tutt, who hadnevertheless managed to slip in an Abyssinian brother on the back row, and an ex-dog fancier for Number Six. Also among those present were adelicatessen man from East Houston Street, a dealer in rubber novelties, a plumber and the editor of Baby's World. The foreman was almost as fatas Mr. Appleboy, but Tutt regarded this as an even break on account ofthe size of Tunnygate. As Tutt confidently whispered to Mrs. Appleboy, it was as rotten a jury as he could get. 

Mrs. Appleboy didn't understand why Tutt should want a rotten jury, butshe nevertheless imbibed some vicarious confidence from this statementand squeezed Appleboy's hand encouragingly. For Appleboy, in spite ofhis apparent calm, was a very much frightened man, and under the creasesof his floppy waistcoat his heart was beating like a tom-tom. Thepenalty for assault in the second degree was ten years in state'sprison, and life with Bashemath, even in the vicinity of the Tunnygates, seemed sweet. The thought of breaking stones under the summer sun--itwas a peculiarly hot summer--was awful. Ten years! He could never livethrough it! And yet as his glance fell upon the Tunnygates, arrayed intheir best finery and sitting with an air of importance upon the frontbench of the court room, he told himself that he would do the wholething all over again--yes, he would! He had only stood up for hisrights, and Tunnygate's blood was upon his own head--or wherever it was. So he squeezed Bashemath's hand tenderly in response. 

Upon the bench Judge Witherspoon, assigned from somewhere upstate tohelp keep down the ever-lengthening criminal calendar of theMetropolitan District, finished the letter he was writing to his wife inGenesee County, sealed it and settled back in his chair. An old warhorse of the country bar, he had in his time been mixed up in almostevery kind of litigation, but as he looked over the indictment he withdifficulty repressed a smile. Thirty years ago he'd had a dog casehimself; also of the form, style and breed known as bull. 

"You may proceed, Mister District Attorney!" he announced, and littlePepperill, the youngest of the D. A. 's staff, just out of the law school, begoggled and with his hair plastered evenly down on either side of hissmall round head, rose with serious mien, and with a high piping voiceopened the prosecution. 

It was, he told them, a most unusual and hence most important case. Thedefendant Appleboy had maliciously procured a savage dog of the mostvicious sort and loosed it upon the innocent complainant as he was onhis way to work, with the result that the latter had nearly been torn toshreds. It was a horrible, dastardly, incredible, fiendish crime, hewould expect them to do their full duty in the premises, and they shouldhear Mr. Tunnygate's story from his own lips. 

Mr. Tunnygate limped with difficulty to the stand, and having been sworngingerly sat down--partially. Then turning his broadside to the gapingjury he recounted his woes with indignant gasps. 

"Have you the trousers which you wore upon that occasion?" inquiredPepperill. 

Mr. Tunnygate bowed solemnly and lifted from the floor a paper parcelwhich he untied and from which he drew what remained of that nowhistoric garment. 

"These are they, " he announced dramatically. 

"I offer them in evidence, " exclaimed Pepperill, "and I ask the jury toexamine them with great care. "

They did so. 

Tutt waited until the trousers had been passed from hand to hand andreturned to their owner; then, rotund, chipper and birdlike as ever, began his cross-examination much like a woodpecker attacking a stoutstump. The witness had been an old friend of Mr. Appleboy's, had he not?Tunnygate admitted it, and Tutt pecked him again. Never had done himany wrong, had he? Nothing in particular. Well, any wrong? Tunnygatehesitated. Why, yes, Appleboy had tried to fence in the public beachthat belonged to everybody. Well, did that do the witness any harm? Thewitness declared that it did; compelled him to go round when he had aright to go across. Oh! Tutt put his head on one side and glanced at thejury. How many feet? About twenty feet. Then Tutt pecked a littleharder. 

"Didn't you tear a hole in the hedge and stamp down the grass when bytaking a few extra steps you could have reached the beach withoutdifficulty?"

"I--I simply tried to remove an illegal obstruction, " declared Tunnygateindignantly. 

"Didn't Mr. Appleboy ask you to keep off?"

"Sure--yes!"

"Didn't you obstinately refuse to do so?"

Mr. Pepperill objected to "obstinately" and it was stricken out. 

"I wasn't going to stay off where I had a right to go, " asserted thewitness. 

"And didn't you have warning that the dog was there?"

"Look here!" suddenly burst out Tunnygate. "You can't hector me intoanything. Appleboy never had a dog before. He got a dog just to sic himon me! He put up a sign 'Beware of the dog, ' but he knew that I'd thinkit was just a bluff. It was a plant, that's what it was! And just assoon as I got inside the hedge that dog went for me and nearly tore meto bits. It was a rotten thing to do and you know it!"

He subsided, panting. 

Tutt bowed complacently. 

"I move that the witness' remarks be stricken out on the grounds first, that they are unresponsive; second, that they are irrelevant, incompetent and immaterial; third, that they contain expressions ofopinion and hearsay; and fourth, that they are abusive and generallyimproper. "

"Strike them out!" directed Judge Witherspoon. Then he turned toTunnygate. "The essence of your testimony is that the defendant set adog on you, is it not? You had quarreled with the defendant, with whomyou had formerly been on friendly terms. You entered on premises claimedto be owned by him, though a sign warned you to beware of a dog. The dogattacked and bit you? That's the case, isn't it?"

"Yes, Your Honor. "

"Had you ever seen that dog before?"

"No, sir. "

"Do you know where he got it?"

"My wife told me--"

"Never mind what your wife told you. Do you--"

"He don't know where the dog came from, judge!" suddenly called out Mrs. Tunnygate in strident tones from where she was sitting. "But I know!"she added venomously. "That woman of his got it from--"

Judge Witherspoon fixed her coldly with an impassive and judicial eye. 

"Will you kindly be silent, madam? You will no doubt be given anopportunity to testify as fully as you wish. That is all, sir, unlessMr. Tutt has some more questions. "

Tutt waved the witness from the stand contemptuously. 

"Well, I'd like a chance to testify!" shrilled Mrs. Tunnygate, rising infull panoply. 

"This way, madam, " said the clerk, motioning her round the back of thejury box. And she swept ponderously into the offing like a full-riggedbark and came to anchor in the witness chair, her chin rising andfalling upon her heaving bosom like the figurehead of a vessel upon aheavy harbor swell. 

Now it has never been satisfactorily explained just why the character ofan individual should be in any way deducible from such irrelevantattributes as facial anatomy, bodily structure or the shape of thecranium. Perhaps it is not, and in reality we discern disposition fromsomething far more subtle--the tone of the voice, the expression of theeyes, the lines of the face or even from an aura unperceived by thesenses. However that may be, the wisdom of the Constitutional safeguardguaranteeing that every person charged with crime shall be confronted bythe witnesses against him was instantly made apparent when Mrs. Tunnygate took the stand, for without hearing a word from her firmlycompressed lips the jury simultaneously swept her with one comprehensiveglance and turned away. Students of women, experienced adventurers inmatrimony, these plumbers, bird merchants "delicatessens" and the restlooked, perceived and comprehended that here was the very devil of awoman--a virago, a shrew, a termagant, a natural-born trouble-maker; andthey shivered and thanked God that she was Tunnygate's and not theirs;their unformulated sentiment best expressed in Pope's immortal couplet:

 Oh woman, woman! when to ill thy mind Is bent, all hell contains no fouler fiend. 

She had said no word. Between the judge and jury nothing had passed, andyet through the alpha rays of that mysterious medium of communicationby which all men as men are united where woman is concerned, thethought was directly transmitted and unanimously acknowledged that herefor sure was a hell cat!

It was as naught to them that she testified to the outrageous illegalityof the Appleboys' territorial ambitions, the irascibility of the wife, the violent threats of the husband; or that Mrs. Appleboy had beenobserved to mail a suspicious letter shortly before the date of thecanine assault. They disregarded her. Yet when Tutt uponcross-examination sought to attack her credibility by asking her variouspertinent questions they unhesitatingly accepted his implied accusationsas true, though under the rules of evidence he was bound by her denials. 

Peck 1: "Did you not knock Mrs. Appleboy's flower pots off the piazza?"he demanded significantly. 

"Never! I never did!" she declared passionately

But they knew in their hearts that she had. 

Peck 2: "Didn't you steal her milk bottles?"

"What a lie! It's absolutely false!"

Yet they knew that she did. 

Peck 3: "Didn't you tangle up their fish lines and take theirthole-pins?"

"Well, I never! You ought to be ashamed to ask a lady such questions!"

They found her guilty. 

"I move to dismiss, Your Honor, " chirped Tutt blithely at the conclusionof her testimony. 

Judge Witherspoon shook his head. 

"I want to hear the other side, " he remarked. "The mere fact that thedefendant put up a sign warning the public against the dog may be takenas some evidence that he had knowledge of the animal's viciouspropensities. I shall let the case go to the jury unless this evidenceis contradicted or explained. Reserve your motion. "

"Very well, Your Honor, " agreed Tutt, patting himself upon the abdomen. "I will follow your suggestion and call the defendant. Mr. Appleboy, take the stand. "

Mr. Appleboy heavily rose and the heart of every fat man upon the jury, and particularly that of the Abyssinian brother upon the back row, wentout to him. For just as they had known without being told that the newMrs. Tunnygate was a vixen, they realized that Appleboy was a kind, good-natured man--a little soft, perhaps, like his clams, but no moredangerous. Moreover, it was plain that he had suffered and was, indeed, still suffering, and they had pity for him. Appleboy's voice shook andso did the rest of his person as he recounted his ancient friendship forTunnygate and their piscatorial association, their common matrimonialexperiences, the sudden change in the temperature of the society ofThroggs Neck, the malicious destruction of their property and theunexplained aggressions of Tunnygate upon the lawn. And the jury, believing, understood. 

Then like the sword of Damocles the bessemer voice of Pepperill severedthe general atmosphere of amiability: "Where did you get that dog?"

Mr. Appleboy looked round helplessly, distress pictured in everyfeature. 

"My wife's aunt lent it to us. "

"How did she come to lend it to you?"

"Bashemath wrote and asked for it. "

"Oh! Did you know anything about the dog before you sent for it?"

"Of your own knowledge?" interjected Tutt sharply. 

"Oh, no!" returned Appleboy. 

"Didn't you know it was a vicious beast?" sharply challenged Pepperill. 

"Of your own knowledge?" again warned Tutt. 

"I'd never seen the dog. "

"Didn't your wife tell you about it?"

Tutt sprang to his feet, wildly waving his arms: "I object; on theground that what passed between husband and wife upon this subject mustbe regarded as confidential. "

"I will so rule, " said Judge Witherspoon, smiling. "Excluded. "

Pepperill shrugged his shoulders. 

"I would like to ask a question, " interpolated the editor of Baby'sWorld. 

"Do!" exclaimed Tutt eagerly. 

The editor, who was a fat editor, rose in an embarrassed manner. 

"Mr. Appleboy!" he began. 

"Yes, sir!" responded Appleboy. 

"I want to get this straight. You and your wife had a row with theTunnygates. He tried to tear up your front lawn. You warned him off. Hekept on doing it. You got a dog and put up a sign and when hedisregarded it you sicked the dog on him. Is that right?"

He was manifestly friendly, merely a bit cloudy in the cerebellum. TheAbyssinian brother pulled him sharply by the coat tails. 

"Sit down, " he whispered hoarsely. "You're gumming it all up. "

"I didn't sic Andrew on him!" protested Appleboy. 

"But I say, why shouldn't he have?" demanded the baby's editor. "That'swhat anybody would do!"

Pepperill sprang frantically to his feet. 

"Oh, I object! This juryman is showing bias. This is entirely improper. "

"I am, am I?" sputtered the fat editor angrily. "I'll show you--"

"You want to be fair, don't you?" whined Pepperill. "I've proved thatthe Appleboys had no right to hedge in the beach!"

"Oh, pooh!" sneered the Abyssinian, now also getting to his feet. "Supposing they hadn't? Who cares a damn? This man Tunnygate deservedall he's got!"

"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" expostulated the judge firmly. "Take your seatsor I shall declare a mistrial. Go on, Mr. Tutt. Call your next witness. "

"Mrs. Appleboy, " called out Tutt, "will you kindly take the chair?" Andthat good lady, looking as if all her adipose existence had been devotedto the production of the sort of pies that mother used to make, placidlymade her way to the witness stand. 

"Did you know that Andrew was a vicious dog?" inquired Tutt. 

"No!" answered Mrs. Appleboy firmly. "I didn't. "

O woman!

"That is all, " declared Tutt with a triumphant smile. 

"Then, " snapped Pepperill, "why did you send for him?"

"I was lonely, " answered Bashemath unblushingly. 

"Do you mean to tell this jury that you didn't know that that dog wasone of the worst biters in Livornia?"

"I do!" she replied. "I only knew Aunt Eliza had a dog. I didn't knowanything about the dog personally. "

"What did you say to your aunt in your letter?"

"I said I was lonely and wanted protection. "

"Didn't you hope the dog would bite Mr. Tunnygate?"

"Why, no!" she declared. "I didn't want him to bite anybody. "

At that the delicatessen man poked the plumber in the ribs and they bothgrinned happily at one another. 

Pepperill gave her a last disgusted look and sank back in his seat. 

"That is all!" he ejaculated feebly. 

"One question, if you please, madam, " said Judge Witherspoon. "May I bepermitted to"--he coughed as a suppressed snicker ran round thecourt--"that is--may I not--er--Oh, look here! How did you happen tohave the idea of getting a dog?"

Mrs. Appleboy turned the full moon of her homely countenance upon thecourt. 

"The potato peel came down that way!" she explained blandly. 

"What!" exploded the dealer in rubber novelties. 

"The potato peel--it spelled 'dog, '" she repeated artlessly. 

"Lord!" deeply suspirated Pepperill. "What a case! Carry me out!"

"Well, Mr. Tutt, " said the judge, "now I will hear what you may wish tosay upon the question of whether this issue should be submitted to thejury. However, I shall rule that the indictment is sufficient. "

Tutt elegantly rose. 

"Having due respect to Your Honor's ruling as to the sufficiency of theindictment I shall address myself simply to the question of _scienter_. I might, of course, dwell upon the impropriety of charging the defendantwith criminal responsibility for the act of another free agent even ifthat agent be an animal--but I will leave that, if necessary, for theCourt of Appeals. If anybody were to be indicted in this case I hold itshould have been the dog Andrew. Nay, I do not jest! But I can see byYour Honor's expression that any argument upon that score would bewithout avail. "

"Entirely, " remarked Witherspoon. "Kindly go on!"

"Well, " continued Tutt, "the law of this matter needs no elucidation. Ithas been settled since the time of Moses. "

"Of whom?" inquired Witherspoon. "You don't need to go back fartherthan Chief Justice Marshall so far as I am concerned. "

Tutt bowed. 

"It is an established doctrine of the common law both of England andAmerica that it is wholly proper for one to keep a domestic animal forhis use, pleasure or protection, until, as Dykeman, J. , says in Mullervs. McKesson, 10 Hun. , 45, 'some vicious propensity is developed andbrought out to the knowledge of the owner. ' Up to that time the man whokeeps a dog or other animal cannot be charged with liability for hisacts. This has always been the law. 

"In the twenty-first chapter of Exodus at the twenty-eighth verse it iswritten: 'If an ox gore a man or a woman, that they die; then the oxshall be surely stoned, and his flesh shall not be eaten; but the ownerof the ox shall be quit. But if the ox were wont to push with his hornin time past, and it hath been testified to his owner, and he hath notkept him in, but that he hath killed a man or a woman; the ox shall bestoned, and his owner also shall be put to death. '

"In the old English case of Smith vs. Pehal, 2 Strange, 1264, it wassaid by the court: 'If a dog has once bit a man, and the owner havingnotice thereof keeps the dog, and lets him go about or lie at his door, an action will lie against him at the suit of a person who is bit, though it happened by such person's treading on the dog's toes; for itwas owing to his not hanging the dog on the first notice. And the safetyof the king's subjects ought not afterwards to be endangered. ' That issound law; but it is equally good law that 'if a person with fullknowledge of the evil propensities of an animal wantonly excites him orvoluntarily and unnecessarily puts himself in the way of such an animalhe would be adjudged to have brought the injury upon himself, and oughtnot to be entitled to recover. In such a case it cannot be said in alegal sense that the keeping of the animal, which is the gravamen of theoffense, produced the injury. '

"Now in the case at bar, first there is clearly no evidence that thisdefendant knew or ever suspected that the dog Andrew was otherwise thanof a mild and gentle disposition. That is, there is no evidence whateverof _scienter_. In fact, except in this single instance there is noevidence that Andrew ever bit anybody. Thus, in the word of Holy Writthe defendant Appleboy should be quit, and in the language of our owncourts he must be held harmless. Secondly, moreover, it appears that thecomplainant deliberately put himself in the way of the dog Andrew, afterfull warning. I move that the jury be directed to return a verdict ofnot guilty. "

"Motion granted, " nodded Judge Witherspoon, burying his nose in hishandkerchief. "I hold that every dog is entitled to one bite. "

"Gentlemen of the jury, " chanted the clerk: "How say you? Do you findthe defendant guilty or not guilty?"

"Not guilty, " returned the foreman eagerly, amid audible evidences ofsatisfaction from the Abyssinian brother, the Baby's World editor andthe others. Mr. Appleboy clung to Tutt's hand, overcome by emotion. 

"Adjourn court!" ordered the judge. Then he beckoned to Mr. Appleboy. "Come up here!" he directed. 

Timidly Mr. Appleboy approached the dais. 

"Don't do it again!" remarked His Honor shortly. 

"Eh? Beg pardon, Your Honor, I mean--"

"I said: 'Don't do it again!'" repeated the judge with a twinkle in hiseye. Then lowering his voice he whispered: "You see I come fromLivornia, and I've known Andrew for a long time. "

As Tutt guided the Appleboys out into the corridor the party came faceto face with Mr. And Mrs. Tunnygate. 

"Huh!" sneered Tunnygate. 

"Huh!" retorted Appleboy. 

Wile Versus Guile

 For 'tis the sport to have the engineer Hoist with his own petar. --HAMLET. 

It was a mouse by virtue of which Ephraim Tutt had leaped into fame. Itis true that other characters famous in song and story--particularly in"Mother Goose"--have similarly owed their celebrity in whole or part torodents, but there is, it is submitted, no other case of a mouse, asmouse _per se_, reported in the annals of the law, except Tutt's mouse, from Doomsday Book down to the present time. 

Yet it is doubtful whether without his mouse Ephraim Tutt would everhave been heard of at all, and same would equally have been true if whenpursued by the chef's gray cat the mouse aforesaid had jumped in anotherdirection. But as luck would have it, said mouse leaped foolishly intoan open casserole upon a stove in the kitchen of the Comers Hotel, andMr. Tutt became in his way a leader of the bar. 

It is quite true that the tragic end of the mouse in question hasnothing to do with our present narrative except as a side light upon thevagaries of the legal career, but it illustrates how an attorney if heexpects to succeed in his profession, must be ready for anything thatcomes along--even if it be a mouse. 

The two Tutts composing the firm of Tutt & Tutt were both, at the timeof the mouse case, comparatively young men. Tutt was a native of Bangor, Maine, and numbered among his childhood friends one Newbegin, acommercial wayfarer in the shingle and clapboard line; and as he hopedat some future time to draw Newbegin's will or to incorporate for himsome business venture Tutt made a practise of entertaining hisprospective client at dinner upon his various visits to the metropolis, first at one New York hostelry and then at another. 

Chance led them one night to the Comers, and there amid the imitationpalms and imitation French waiters of the imitation French restaurantTutt invited his friend Newbegin to select what dish he chose from thoseupon the bill of fare; and Newbegin chose kidney stew. It was at aboutthat moment that the adventure which has been referred to occurred inthe hotel kitchen. The gray cat was cheated of its prey, and in duecourse the casserole containing the stew was borne into the dining roomand the dish was served. 

Suddenly Mr. Newbegin contorted his mouth and exclaimed:

"Heck! A mouse!"

It was. The head waiter was summoned, the manager, the owner. Guests andgarçons crowded about Tutt and Mr. Newbegin to inspect what had sounexpectedly been found. No one could deny that it was, mouse--cookedmouse; and Newbegin had ordered kidney stew. Then Tutt had had hisinspiration. 

"You shall pay well for this!" he cried, frowning at the distressedproprietor, while Newbegin leaned piteously against a pâpier-machépillar. "This is an outrage! You shall be held liable in heavy damagesfor my client's indigestion!"

And thus Tutt & Tutt got their first case out of Newbegin, for under theinfluence of the eloquence of Mr. Tutt a jury was induced to give him averdict of one thousand dollars against the Comers Hotel, which theCourt of Appeals sustained in the following words, quoting verbatim fromthe learned brief furnished by Tutt & Tutt, Ephraim Tutt of counsel:

"The only legal question in the case, or so it appears to us, is whetherthere is such a sale of food to a guest on the part of the proprietoras will sustain a warranty. If we are not in error, however, the law issettled and has been since the reign of Henry the Sixth. In the NinthYear Book of that Monarch's reign there is a case in which it was heldthat 'if I go to a tavern to eat, and the taverner gives and sells memeat and it corrupted, whereby I am made very sick, action lies againsthim without any express warranty, for there is a warranty in law'; andin the time of Henry the Seventh the learned Justice Keilway said, 'Noman can justify selling corrupt victual, but an action on the case liesagainst the seller, whether the victual was warranted to be good ornot. ' Now, certainly, whether mouse meat be or be not deleterious tohealth a guest at a hotel who orders a portion of kidney stew has theright to expect, and the hotel keeper impliedly warrants, that such dishwill contain no ingredients beyond those ordinarily placed therein. "

 * * * * *

"A thousand dollars!" exulted Tutt when the verdict was rendered. "Why, anyone would eat mouse for a thousand dollars!"

The Comers Hotel became in due course a client of Tutt & Tutt, and themouse which made Mr. Tutt famous did not die in vain, for the casebecame celebrated throughout the length and breadth of the land, to theglory of the firm and a vast improvement in the culinary conditionsexisting in hotels. 

"Come in, Mr. Barrows! Come right in! I haven't seen you for--well, howlong is it?" exclaimed Mr. Tutt, extending a long welcoming arm toward ahuman scarecrow upon the threshold. 

"Five years, " answered the visitor. "I only got out day beforeyesterday. Fourteen months off for good behavior. "

He coughed and put down carefully beside him a large dress-suit casemarked E. V. B. , Pottsville, N. Y. 

"Well, well!" sighed Mr. Tutt. "So it is. How time flies!"

"Not in Sing Sing!" replied Mr. Barrows ruefully. 

"I suppose not. Still, it must feel good to be out!"

Mr. Barrows made no reply but dusted off his felt hat. He was but theshadow of a man, an old man at that, as was attested by his long graybeard, his faded blue eyes, and the thin white hair about his finedomelike forehead. 

"I forget what your trouble was about, " said Mr. Tutt gently. "Won't youhave a stogy?"

Mr. Barrows shook his head. 

"I ain't used to it, " he answered. "Makes me cough. " He gazed about himvaguely. 

"Something about bonds, wasn't it?" asked Mr. Tutt. 

"Yes, " replied Mr. Barrows; "Great Lakes and Canadian Southern. "

"Of course! Of course!"

"A wonderful property, " murmured Mr. Barrows regretfully. "The bondswere perfectly good. There was a defect in the foreclosure proceedingswhich made them a permanent underlying security of the reorganizedcompany--under The Northern Pacific R. R. Co. Vs. Boyd; you know--but thecourt refused to hold that way. They never will hold the way you want, will they?" He looked innocently at Mr. Tutt. 

"No, " agreed the latter with conviction, "they never will!"

"Now those bonds were as good as gold, " went on the old man; "and yetthey said I had to go to prison. You know all about it. You were mylawyer. "

"Yes, " assented Mr. Tutt, "I remember all about it now. "

Indeed it had all come back to him with the vividness of a landscapeseen during a lightning flash--the crowded court, old Doc Barrows uponthe witness stand, charged with getting money on the strength ofdefaulted and outlawed bonds--picked up heaven knows where--patheticallytrying to persuade an unsympathetic court that for some reason theywere still worth their face value, though the mortgage securing the debtwhich they represented had long since been foreclosed and the moneydistributed. 

"I'd paid for 'em--actual cash, " he rambled on. "Not much, to besure--but real money. If I got 'em cheap that was my good luck, wasn'tit? It was because my brain was sharper than other folks'! I said theyhad value and I say so now--only nobody will believe it or take thetrouble to find out. I learned a lot up there in Sing Sing too, " hecontinued, warming to his subject. "Do you know, sir, there are fortuneslying all about us? Take gold, for instance! There's a fraction of agrain in every ton of sea water. But the big people don't want it takenout because it would depress the standard of exchange. I say it's aconspiracy--and yet they jailed a man for it! There's great mineraldeposits all about just waiting for the right man to come along anddevelop 'em. "

His lifted eye rested upon the engraving of Abraham Lincoln over Mr. Tutt's desk. "There was a man!" he exclaimed inconsequently; thenstopped and ran his transparent, heavily veined old hand over hisforehead. "Where was I? Let me see. Oh, yes--gold. All those greatproperties could be bought at one time or another for a song. It neededa pioneer! That's what I was--a pioneer to find the gold where otherpeople couldn't find it. That's not any crime; it's a service tohumanity! If only they'd have a little faith--instead of locking you up. The judge never looked up the law about those Great Lakes bonds! If hehad he'd have found out I was right! I'd looked it up. I studied lawonce myself. "

"I know, " said Mr. Tutt, almost moved to tears by the sight of the wreckbefore him. "You practised up state, didn't you?"

"Yes, " responded Doc Barrows eagerly. "And in Chicago too. I'm a memberof the Cook County bar. I'll tell you something! If the Supreme Court ofIllinois hadn't been wrong in its law I'd be the richest man in theworld--in the whole world!" He grabbed Mr. Tutt by the arm and staredhard into his eyes. "Didn't I show you my papers? I own seven feet ofwater front clean round Lake Michigan all through the city of Chicago Igot it for a song from the man who found out the flaw in the originaltitle deed of 1817; he was dying. 'I'll sell my secret to you, ' he says, 'because I'm passing on. May it bring you luck!' I looked it all up andit was just as he said. So I got up a corporation--The Chicago WaterFront and Terminal Company--and sold bonds to fight my claim in thecourts. But all the people who had deeds to my land conspired againstme and had me arrested! They sent me to the penitentiary. There'sjustice for you!"

"That was too bad!" said Mr. Tutt in a soothing voice. "But after allwhat good would all that money have done you?"

"I don't want money!" affirmed Doc plaintively. "I've never neededmoney. I know enough secrets to make me rich a dozen times over. Notmoney but justice is what I want--my legal rights. But I'm tired offighting against 'em. They've beaten me! Yes, they've beaten me! I'mgoing to retire. That's why I came in to see you, Mr. Tutt. I never paidyou for your services as my attorney. I'm going away. You see my marrieddaughter lost her husband the other day and she wants me to come up andlive with her on the farm to keep her from being lonely. Of course itwon't be much like life in Wall Street--but I owe her some duty and I'mgetting on--I am, Mr. Tutt, I really am!"

He smiled. 

"And I haven't seen Louisa for three years--my only daughter. I shallenjoy being with her. She was such a dear little girl! I'll tell youanother secret"--his voice dropped to a whisper--"I've found out there'sa gold mine on her farm, only she doesn't know it. A rich vein runsright through her cow pasture. We'll be rich! Wouldn't it be fine, Mr. Tutt, to be rich? Then I'm going to pay you in real money for all you'vedone for me--thousands! But until then I'm going to let you havethese--all my securities; my own, you know, every one of them. "

He placed the suitcase in front of Mr. Tutt and opened the clasps withhis shaking old fingers. It bulged with bonds, and he dumped them forthuntil they covered the top of the desk. 

"These are my jewels!" he said. "There's millions represented here!" Helifted one tenderly and held it to the light, fresh as it came from theengraver's press--a thousand dollar first-mortgage bond of The ChicagoWater Front and Terminal Company. "Look at that! Good as gold--if thecourts only knew the law. "

He took up a yellow package of valueless obligations upon the top ofwhich an old-fashioned locomotive from whose bell-shaped funnel thesmoke poured in picturesque black clouds, dragging behind it a chain offunny little passenger coaches, drove furiously along beside a rushingriver through fields rich with corn and wheat amid a border of dollarsigns. 

"The Great Lakes and Canadian Southern, " he crooned lovingly. "The childof my heart! The district attorney kept all the rest--as evidence, heclaimed, but some day you'll see he'll bring an action against the LakeShore or the New York Central based on these bonds. Yes, sir! They'reall right!"

He pawed them over, picking out favorites here and there and excitedlyextolling the merits of the imaginary properties they represented. Therewere the repudiated bonds of Southern states and municipalities ofrailroads upon whose tracks no wheel had ever turned; of factories neverbuilt except in Doc Barrows' addled brain; of companies which haddefaulted and given stock for their worthless obligations; certificatesof oil, mining and land companies; deeds to tracts now covered with skyscrapers in Pittsburgh, St. Louis and New York--each and every one ofthem not worth the paper they were printed on except to some crook whodealt in high finance. But they were exquisitely engraved, quite lovelyto look at, and Doc Barrows gloated upon them with scintillating eyes. 

"Ain't they beauties?" he sighed. "Some day--yes sir!--some day they'llbe worth real money. I paid it for some of 'em. But they're yours--allyours. "

He gathered them up with care and returned them to the suitcase, thenfastened the clasps and patted the leather cover with his hand. 

"They are yours, sir!" he exclaimed dramatically. 

"As you say, " agreed Mr. Tutt, "there's gold lying round everywhere ifwe only had sense enough to look for it. But I think you're wise toretire. After all, you have the satisfaction of knowing that yourenterprises were sound even if other people disagreed with you. "

"If this was 1819 instead of 1919 I'd own Chicago, " began Doc, a gleamappearing in his eye. "But they don't want to upset the statusquo--that's why I haven't got a fair chance. But they needn't worry! I'dbe generous with 'em--give 'em easy terms--long leases and nominalrents. "

"But you'll like living with your daughter, I'm sure, " said Mr. Tutt. "It will make a new man of you in no time. "

"Healthiest spot in northern New York, " exclaimed Doc. "Within two milesof a lake--fishing, shooting, outdoor recreation of all kinds, an idealsite for a mammoth summer hotel. "

Mr. Tutt rose and laid his arms round old Doc Barrows' shoulders. 

"Thank you a thousand times, " he said gratefully, "for the securities. I'll be glad to keep them for you in my vault. " His lips puckered in astealthy smile which he tried hard to conceal. 

"Louisa may want to repaper the farmhouse some time, " he added tohimself. 

"Oh, they're all yours to keep!" insisted Doc. "I want you to havethem!" His voice trembled. 

"Well, well!" answered Mr. Tutt. "Leave it that way; but if you evershould want them they'll be here waiting for you. "

"I'm no Indian giver!" replied Doc with dignity. "Give, give, give athing--never take it back again. "

He laughed rather childishly. He was evidently embarrassed. 

"Could--could you let me have the loan of seventy-five cents?" he askedshyly. 

 * * * * *

Down below, inside a doorway upon the other side of the street, SergeantMurtha of the Detective Bureau waited for Doc Barrows to come out and bearrested again. Murtha had known Doc for fifteen years as a harmless oldnut who had rarely succeeded in cheating anybody, but who was regardedas generally undesirable by the authorities and sent away every fewyears in order to keep him out of mischief. There was no danger that thepublic would accept Doc's version of the nature or value of hissecurities, but there was always the chance that some of his worthlessbonds--those bastard offsprings of his cracked old brain--would findtheir way into less honest but saner hands. So Doc rattled about frompenitentiary to prison and from prison to madhouse and out again, constantly taking appeals and securing writs of habeas corpus, andfeeling mildly resentful, but not particularly so, that people should beso interfering with his business. Now as from force of long habit hepeered out of the doorway before making his exit; he looked like one ofthe John Sargent's prophets gone a little madder than usual--a Jeremiahor a Habakkuk. 

"Hello, Doc!" called Murtha in hearty, friendly tones. "Hie spy! Come onout!"

"Oh, how d'ye do, captain!" responded Doc. "How are you? I was justinterviewing my solicitor. "

"Sorry, " said Murtha. "The inspector wants to see you. "

Doc flinched. 

"But they've just let me go!" he protested faintly. 

"It's one of those old indictments--Chicago Water Front or something. Anyhow--Here! Hold on to yourself!"

He threw his arms around the old man, who seemed on the point offalling. 

"Oh, captain! That's all over! I served time for that out in Illinois!"For some strange reason all the insanity had gone out of his bearing. 

"Not in this state, " answered Murtha. New pity for this poor old wastreltook hold upon him. "What were you going to do?"

"I was going to retire, captain, " said Doc faintly. "My daughter'shusband--he owned a farm up in Cayuga County--well, he died and I wasplanning to go up there and live with her. "

"And sting all the boobs?" grinned Murtha not unsympathetically. "Howmuch money have you got?"

"Seventy-five cents. "

"How much is the ticket?"

"About nine dollars, " quavered Doc. "But I know a man down on ChathamSquare who might buy a block of stock in the Last Chance Gold MiningCompany; I could get the money that way. "

"What's the Last Chance Gold Mining Company?" asked Murtha sharply. 

"It's a company I'm going to organize. I'll tell you a secret, Murtha. There's a vein of gold runs right through my daughter Louisa's cowpasture--she doesn't know anything about it--"

"Oh, hell!" exclaimed Murtha. "Come along to the station. I'll let youhave the nine bones. And you can put me down for half a million of theunderwriting. "

 * * * * *

That same evening Mr. Tutt was toasting his carpet slippers before thesea-coal fire in his library, sipping a hot toddy and rereading for theeleventh time the "Lives of the Chancellors" when Miranda, who had notyet finished washing the few dishes incident to her master's meagersupper, pushed open the door and announced that a lady was calling. 

"She said you'd know her sho' enough, Mis' Tutt, " grinned Miranda, swinging her dishrag, "'case you and she used to live tergidder when youwas a young man. "

This scandalous announcement did not have the startling effect upon therespectable Mr. Tutt which might naturally have been anticipated, sincehe was quite used to Miranda's forms of expression. 

"It must be Mrs. Effingham, " he remarked, closing the career of LordEldon and removing his feet from the fender. 

"Dat's who it is!" answered Miranda. "She's downstairs waitin' to comeup. "

"Well, let her come, " directed Mr. Tutt, wondering what his oldboarding-house keeper could want of him, for he had not seen Mrs. Effingham for more than fifteen years, at which time she was wellprovided with husband, three children and a going business. Indeed, itrequired some mental adjustment on his part to recognize the witheredlittle old lady in widow's weeds and rusty black with a gold star on hersleeve who so timidly, a moment later, followed Miranda into the room. 

"I'm afraid you don't recognize me, " she said with a pitiful attempt atfaded coquetry. "I don't blame you, Mr. Tutt. You don't look a day olderyourself. But a great deal has happened to me!"

"I should have recognized you anywhere, " he protested gallantly. "Do sitdown, Mrs. Effingham won't you? I am delighted to see you. How would youlike a glass of toddy? Just to show there's no ill-feeling!"

He forced a glass into her hand and filled it from the teakettlestanding on the hearth, while Miranda brought a sofa cushion and tuckedit behind the old lady's back. 

Mrs. Effingham sighed, tasted the toddy and leaned back deliciously. Shewas very wrinkled and her hair under the bonnet was startlingly white incontrast with the crepe of her veil, but there were still traces ofbeauty in her face. 

"I've come to you, Mr. Tutt, " she explained apologetically, "because Ialways said that if I ever was in trouble you'd be the one to whom Ishould go to help me out. "

"What greater compliment could I receive?"

"Well, in those days I never thought that time would come, " she went on. "You remember my husband--Jim? Jim died two years ago. And littleJimmy--our eldest--he was only fourteen when you boarded with us--he waskilled at the Front last July. " She paused and felt for herhandkerchief, but could not find it. "I still keep the house; but do youknow how old I am, Mr. Tutt? I'm seventy-one! And the two older girlsgot married long ago and I'm all alone except for Jessie, theyoungest--and I haven't told her anything about it. "

"Yes?" said Mr. Tutt sympathetically. "What haven't you told her about?"

"My trouble. You see, Jessie's not a well girl--she really ought to liveout West somewhere, the doctor says--and Jim and I had saved up allthese years so that after we were gone she would have something to liveon. We saved twelve thousand dollars--and put it into Government bonds. "

"You couldn't have anything safer, at any rate, " remarked the lawyer. "Ithink you did exceedingly well. "

"Now comes the awful part of it all!" exclaimed Mrs. Effingham, claspingher hands. "I'm afraid it's gone--gone forever. I should have consultedyou first before I did it, but it all seemed so fair and above-boardthat I never thought. "

"Have you got rid of your bonds?"

"Yes--no--that is, the bank has them. You see I borrowed ten thousanddollars on them and gave it to Mr. Badger to invest in his oil companyfor me. "

Mr. Tutt groaned inwardly. Badger was the most celebrated of WallStreet's near-financiers. 

"Where on earth did you meet Badger?" he demanded. 

"Why, he boarded with me--for a long time, " she answered. "I've nocomplaint to make of Mr. Badger. He's a very handsome polite gentleman. And I don't feel altogether right about coming to you and sayinganything that might be taken against him--but lately I've heard so manythings--"

"Don't worry about Badger!" growled Mr. Tutt. "How did you come toinvest in his oil stock?"

"I was there when he got the telegram telling how they had found oil onthe property; it came one night at dinner. He was tickled to death. Thestock had been selling at three cents a share, and, of course, after theoil was discovered he said it would go right up to ten dollars. But hewas real nice about it--he said anybody who had been living there in thehouse could share his good fortune with him, come in on the groundfloor, and have it just the same for three cents. A week later therecame a photograph of the gusher and almost all of us decided to buystock. "

At this point in the narrative Mr. Tutt kicked the coal hod violentlyand uttered a smothered ejaculation. 

"Of course I didn't have any ready money, " explained Mrs. Effingham, "but I had the bonds--they only paid two per cent and the oil stock wasgoing to pay twenty--and so I took them down to the bank and borrowedten thousand dollars on them. I had to sign a note and pay five per centinterest. I was making the difference--fifteen hundred dollars everyyear. "

"What has it paid?" demanded Mr. Tutt ironically. 

"Twenty per cent, " replied Mrs. Effingham. "I get Mr. Badger's checkregularly every six months. "

"How many times have you got it?"

"Twice. "

"Well, why don't you like your investment?" inquired Mr. Tutt blandly. "I'd like something that would pay me twenty per cent a year!"

"Because I'm afraid Mr. Badger isn't quite truthful, and one of theladies--that old Mrs. Channing; you remember her, don't you--the onewith the curls?--she tried to sell her stock and nobody would make a bidon it at all--and when she spoke to Mr. Badger about it he became veryangry and swore right in front of her. Then somebody told me that Mr. Badger had been arrested once for something--and--and--Oh, I wish Ihadn't given him the money, because if it's lost Jessie won't haveanything to live on after I'm dead--and she's too sick to work. What doyou think, Mr. Tutt? Do you suppose Mr. Badger would buy the stockback?"

Mr. Tutt smiled grimly. 

"Not if I know him! Have you got your stock with you?"

She nodded. Fumbling in her black bag she pulled forth a flaringcertificate--of the regulation kind, not even engraved--which evidencedthat Sarah Maria Ann Effingham was the legal owner of three hundred andthirty thousand shares of the capital stock of the Great Geyser TexanPetroleum and Llano Estacado Land Company. 

Mr. Tutt took it gingerly between his thumb and forefinger. It wassigned ALFRED HAYNES BADGER, Pres. , and he had an almost irresistibletemptation to twist it into a spill and light a stogy with it. But heused a match instead, while Mrs. Effingham watched him apprehensively. Then he handed the stock back to her and poured out another glass oftoddy. 

"Ever been in Mr. Badger's office?"

"Oh, yes!" she answered. "It's a lovely office. You can see 'way downthe harbor--and over to New Jersey. It's real elegant. "

"Would you mind going there again? That is, are you on friendly termswith him?"

Already a strange, rather desperate plan was half formulated in hismind. 

"Oh, we're perfectly friendly, " she smiled. "I generally go down thereto get my check. "

"Whose check is it--his or the company's?"

"I really don't know, " she answered simply. "What difference would itmake?"

"Oh, nothing--except that he might claim that he'd loaned you themoney. "

"Loaned it? To me?"

"Why, yes. One hears of such things. "

"But it is my money!" she cried, stiffening. 

"You paid that for the stock. "

She shook her head helplessly. 

"I don't understand these things, " she murmured. "If Jim had been aliveit wouldn't have happened. He was so careful. "

"Husbands have some uses occasionally. "

Suddenly she put her hands to her face. 

"Oh, Mr. Tutt! Please get the money back from him. If you don'tsomething terrible will happen to Jessie!"

"I'll do my best, " he said gently, laying his hand on her fragileshoulder. "But I may not be able to do it--and anyhow I'll need yourhelp. "

"What can I do?"

"I want you to go down to Mr. Badger's office to-morrow morning and tellhim that you are so much pleased with your investment that you wouldlike to turn all your securities over to him to sell and put the moneyinto the Great Geyser Texan Petroleum and Llano Estacado Land Company. "

He rolled out the words with unction. 

"But I don't!"

"Oh, yes, you do!" he assured her. "You want to do just what I tellyou, don't you?"

"Of course, " she answered. "But I thought you didn't like Mr. Badger'soil company. "

"Whether I like it or not makes no difference. I want you to say justwhat I tell you. "

"Oh, very well, Mr. Tutt. "

"Then you must tell him about the note, and that first it will have tobe paid off. "

"Yes. "

"And then you must hand him a letter which I will dictate to you now. "

She flushed slightly, her eyes bright with excitement. 

"You're sure it's perfectly honest, Mr. Tutt? I wouldn't want to doanything unfair!"

"Would you be honest with a burglar?"

"But Mr. Badger isn't a burglar!"

"No--he's only about a thousand times worse. He's a robber of widows andorphans. He isn't man enough to take a chance at housebreaking. "

"I don't know what you mean, " she sighed. "Where shall I write?"

Mr. Tutt cleared a space upon his desk, handed her a pad and dipped apen in the ink while she took off her gloves. 

"Address the note to the bank, " he directed. 

She did so. 

"Now say: 'Kindly deliver to Mr. Badger all the securities I have ondeposit with you, whenever he pays my note. Very truly yours, SarahMaria Ann Effingham. '"

"But I don't want him to have my securities!" she retorted. 

"Oh, you won't mind! You'll be lucky to get Mr. Badger to take back youroil stock on any terms. Leave the certificate with me, " laughed Mr. Tutt, rubbing his long thin hands together almost gleefully. "And now asit is getting rather late perhaps you will do me the honor of letting meescort you home. "

It was midnight before Mr. Tutt went to bed. In the first place he hadfelt himself so neglectful of Mrs. Effingham that after he had taken herhome he had sat there a long time talking over the old lady's affairsand making the acquaintance of the phthisical Jessie, who turned out tobe a wistful little creature with great liquid eyes and a delicatetransparent skin that foretold only too clearly what was to be herfuture. There was only one place for her, Mr. Tutt toldhimself--Arizona; and by the grace of God she should go there, Badger orno Badger!

As the old lawyer walked slowly home with his hands clasped behind hisback he pondered upon the seeming mockery and injustice of the law thatforced a lonely, half-demented old fellow with the fixed delusion thathe was a financier behind prison bars and left free the sharp slickcrook who had no bowels or mercies and would snatch away the widow'smite and leave her and her consumptive daughter to die in the poorhouse. Yet such was the case, and there they all were! Could you blame peoplefor being Bolsheviks? And yet old Doc Barrows was as far from aBolshevik as anyone could well be. 

Mr. Tutt passed a restless night, dreaming, when he slept at all, ofmines from which poured myriads of pieces of yellow gold, of gushersspouting columns of blood-red oil hundreds of feet into the air, and ofold-fashioned locomotives dragging picturesque trains of cars acrossbright green prairies studded with cacti in the shape of dollar signs. Old Doc Barrows was with him, and from time to time he would lean towardhim and whisper "Listen, Mr. Tutt, I'll tell you a secret! There's avein of gold runs right through my daughter's cow pasture!"

When Willie next morning at half past eight reached the office he foundthe door already unlocked and Mr. Tutt busy at his desk, up to hiselbows in a great mass of bonds and stock certificates. 

"Gee!" he exclaimed to Miss Sondheim, the stenographer, when she madeher appearance at a quarter past nine. "Just peek in the old man's doorif you want to feel rich! Say, he must ha' struck pay dirt! I wonder ifwe'll all get a raise?"

But all the securities on Mr. Tutt's desk would not have justified eventhe modest advance of five dollars in Miss Sondheim's salary, and theiremployer was merely sorting out and making an inventory of Doc Barrows'imaginary wealth. By the time Mrs. Effingham arrived by appointment atten o'clock he had them all arranged and labeled; and in a specialbundle neatly tied with a piece of red tape were what on their face weresecurities worth upward of seventy thousand dollars. There were ten ofthe beautiful bonds of the Great Lakes and Canadian Southern RailroadCompany with their miniature locomotives and fields of wheat, and tenequally lovely bits of engraving belonging to the long-since defunctBluff Creek and Iowa Central, ten more superb lithographs issued by theMohawk and Housatonic in 1867 and paid off in 1882, and a variety ofgorgeous chromos of Indians and buffaloes, and of factories andsteamships spouting clouds of soft-coal smoke; and on the top of all wasa pile of the First Mortgage Gold Six Per Cent obligations of theChicago Water Front and Terminal Company--all of them fresh and crisp, with that faintly acrid smell which though not agreeable to the nostrilsnevertheless delights the banker's soul. 

"Ah! Good morning to you, Mrs. Effingham!" Mr. Tutt cried, waving her inwhen that lady was announced. "You are not the only millionaire, yousee! In fact, I've stumbled into a few barrels of securitiesmyself--only I didn't pay anything for them. "

"Gracious!" cried Mrs. Effingham, her eyes lighting with astonishment. "Wherever did you get them? And such exquisite pictures! Look at thatlamb!"

"It ought to have been a wolf!" muttered Mr. Tutt. "Well, Mrs. Effingham, I've decided to make you a present--just a few pounds ofChicago Water Front and Canadian Southern--those over there in thatpile; and now if you say so we'll just go along to your bank. "

"Give them to me!" she protested. "What on earth for? You're joking, Mr. Tutt. "

"Not a bit of it!" he retorted. "I don't make any pretensions as to thevalue of my gift, but they're yours for whatever they're worth. "

He wrapped them carefully in a piece of paper and returned the balanceto Doc Barrows' dress-suit case. 

"Aren't you afraid to leave them that way?" she asked, surprised. 

"Not at all! Not at all!" he laughed. "You see there are fortunes lyingall about us everywhere if we only know where to look. Now the firstthing to do is to get your bonds back from the bank. "

Mr. Thomas McKeever, the popular loan clerk of the Mustardseed National, was just getting ready for the annual visit of the state bank examinerwhen Mr. Tutt, followed by Mrs. Effingham, entered the exquisitelyfurnished boudoir where lady clients were induced by all modernconveniences except manicures and shower baths to become depositors. Mr. Tutt and Mr. McKeever belonged to the same Saturday evening poker gameat the Colophon Club, familiarly known as The Bible Class. 

"Morning, Tom, " said Mr. Tutt. "This is my client, Mrs. Effingham. Youhold her note, I believe, for ten thousand dollars secured by somegovernment bonds. She has a use for those bonds and I thought that youmight be willing to take my indorsement instead. You know I'm good forthe money. "

"Why, I guess we can accommodate her, Mr. Tutt!" answered theChesterfieldian Mr. McKeever. "Certainly we can. Sit down, Mrs. Effingham, while I send for your bonds. See the morning paper?"

Mrs. Effingham blushingly acknowledged that she had not seen the paper. In fact, she was much too excited to see anything. 

"Sign here!" said the loan clerk, placing the note before the lawyer. 

Mr. Tutt indorsed it in his strange, humpbacked chirography. 

"Here are your bonds, " said Mr. McKeever, handing Mrs. Effingham a smallpackage in a manila envelope. She took them in a half-frightened way, asif she thought she was doing something wrong. 

"And now, " said Mr. Tutt, "the lady would like a box in yoursafe-deposit vaults; a small one--about five dollars a year--will do. She has quite a bundle of securities with her, which I am looking into. Most if not all of them are of little or no value, but I have told hershe might just as well leave them as security for what they are worth, in addition to my indorsement. Really it's just a slick game of ours toget the bank to look after them for nothing. Isn't it, Mrs. Effingham?"

"Ye-es!" stammered Mrs. Effingham, not understanding what he was talkingabout. 

"Well, " answered Mr. McKeever, "we never refuse collateral. I'll put thebonds with the note--" His eye caught the edges of the bundle. "GreatScott, Tutt! What are you leaving all these bonds here for against thatnote? There must be nearly a hundred thousand dol--"

"I thought you never refused collateral, Mr. McKeever!" challenged Mr. Tutt sternly. 

Twenty minutes later the exquisite blonde that acted as Mr. Badger'sfinancial accomplice learned from Mrs. Effingham's faltering lips thatthe widow would like to see the great man in regard to furtherinvestments. 

"How does it look, Mabel?" inquired the financier from behind hismassive mahogany desk covered with a six by five sheet of plate glass. "Is it a squeal or a fall?"

"Easy money, " answered Mabel with confidence. "She wants to put amortgage on the farm. "

"Keep her about fourteen minutes, tell her the story of myphilanthropies, and then shoot her in, " directed Badger. 

So Mrs. Effingham listened politely while Mabel showed her thephotographs of Mr. Badger's home for consumptives out in Tyrone, NewMexico, and of his wife and children, taken on the porch of his summerhome at Seabright, New Jersey; and then, exactly fourteen minutes havingelapsed, she was shot in. 

"Ah! Mrs. Effingham! Delighted! Do be seated!" Mr. Badger's smile waslike that of the boa constrictor about to swallow the rabbit. 

"About my oil stock, " hesitated Mrs. Effingham. 

"Well, what about it?" demanded Badger sharply. "Are you dissatisfiedwith your twenty per cent?"

"Oh, no!" stammered the old lady. "Not at all! I just thought if I couldonly get the note paid off at the Mustardseed Bank I might ask you tosell the collateral and invest the proceeds in your gusher. "

"Oh!" Mr. Badger beamed with pleasure. "Do you really wish to have medispose of your securities for you?"

He did not regard it as necessary to inquire into the nature of thecollateral. If it was satisfactory to the Mustardseed National it mustof course exceed considerably the amount of the note. 

"Yes, " answered Mrs. Effingham timidly; and she handed him the letterdictated by Mr. Tutt. 

"Well, " replied Mr. Badger thoughtfully, after reading it, "what you askis rather unusual--quite unusual, I may say, but I think I may be ableto attend to the matter for you. Leave it in my hands and think no moreabout it. How have you been, my dear Mrs. Effingham? You're lookingextraordinarily well!"

Mr. McKeever had about concluded his arrangements for welcoming thestate bank examiner when the telephone on his desk buzzed, and on takingup the receiver he heard the ingratiating voice of Alfred Haynes Badger. 

"Is this the Loan Department of the Mustardseed National?"

"It is, " he answered shortly. 

"I understand you hold a note of a certain Mrs. Effingham for tenthousand dollars. May I ask if it is secured?"

"Who is this?" snapped McKeever. 

"One of her friends, " replied Mr. Badger amicably. 

"Well, we don't discuss our clients' affairs over the telephone. You hadbetter come in here if you have any inquiries to make. "

"But I want to pay the note, " expostulated Mr. Badger. 

"Oh! Well, anybody can pay the note who wants to. "

"And of course in that case you would turn over whatever collateral ison deposit to secure the note?"

"If we were so directed. "

"May I ask what collateral there is?"

"I don't know. "

"There is some collateral, I suppose?"

"Yes. "

"Well, I have an order from Mrs. Effingham directing the bank to turnover whatever securities she has on deposit as collateral, on my paymentof the note. "

"In that case you'll get 'em, " said Mr. McKeever gruffly. "I'll getthem out and have 'em ready for you. "

 * * * * *

"Here is my certified check for ten thousand; dollars, " announced AlfredHaynes Badger a few minutes later. "And here is the order from Mrs. Effingham. Now will you kindly turn over to me all the securities?"

Mr. McKeever, knowing something of the reputation of Mr. Badger, firstcalled up the bank which had certified the latter's check, and havingascertained that the certification was genuine he marked Mrs. Effingham's note as paid and then took down from the top of his roll-topdesk the bundle of beautifully engraved securities given him by Mr. Tutt. Badger watched him greedily. 

"Thank you, " he gurgled, stuffing them into his pocket. "Much obligedfor your courtesy. Perhaps you would like me to open an account here?"

"Oh, anybody can open an account who wants to, " remarked Mr. McKeeverdryly, turning away from him to something else. 

Mr. Badger fairly flew back to his office. The exquisite blonde hadhardly ever before seen him exhibit so much agitation. 

"What have you pulled this time?" she inquired dreamily. "Father'sdaguerreotype and the bracelet of mother's hair?"

"I've grabbed off the whole bag of tricks!" he cried. "Look at 'em!We've not seen so much of the real stuff in six months. 

"Ten--twenty--thirty--forty--fifty--By gad!--sixty--seventy!"

"What are they?" asked Mabel curiously. "Some bonds--what?"

"I should say so!" he retorted gaily. "Say, girlie, I'll give you theswellest meal of your young life to-night! Chicago Water Front andTerminal, Great Lakes and Canadian Southern, Mohawk and Housatonic, Bluff Creek and Iowa Central. '_Oh, Mabel_!'"

It was at just about this period of the celebration that Mr. Tuttentered the outer office and sent in his name; and as Mr. Badger was atthe height of his good humor he condescended to see him. 

"I have called, " said Mr. Tutt, "in regard to the bonds belonging to myclient, Mrs. Effingham. I see you have them on the desk there in frontof you. Unfortunately she has changed her mind. She has decided not tohave you dispose of her securities. "

Mr. Badger's expression instantly became hostile and defiant. 

"It's too late!" he replied. "I have paid off her note and I am going tocarry out the rest of the arrangement. "

"Oh, " said Mr. Tutt, "so you are going to sell all her securities andput the proceeds into your bogus oil company--whether she wishes it ornot? If you do the district attorney will get after you. "

"I stand on my rights, " snarled Badger. "Anyhow I can sell enough of thesecurities to pay myself back my ten thousand dollars. "

"And then you'll steal the rest?" inquired Mr. Tutt. "Be careful, mydear sir! Remember there is such a thing as equity, and such a place asSing Sing. "

Badger gave a cynical laugh. 

"You're too late, my friend! I've got a written order--_a writtenorder_--from your client, as you call her. She can't go back on it now. I've got the bonds and I'm going to dispose of them. "

"Very well, " said Mr. Tutt tolerantly. "You can do as you see fit. But"--and he produced ten genuine one-thousand-dollar bills andexhibited them to Mr. Badger at a safe distance--"I now on behalf ofMrs. Effingham make you a legal tender of the ten thousand dollars youhave just paid out to cancel her note, and I demand the return of thesecurities. Incidentally I beg to inform you that they are not worth thepaper they are printed on. "

"Indeed!" sneered Badger. "Well, my dear! old friend, you might havesaved yourself the trouble of coming round here. You and your clientcan go straight to hell. _You_ can keep the money; _I'll_ keep thebonds. See?"

Mr. Tutt sighed and shook his head hopelessly. 

Then he put the bills back into his pocket and started slowly for thedoor. 

"You absolutely and finally decline to give up the securities?" he askedplaintively. 

"Absolutely and finally?" mocked Mr. Badger with a sweeping bow. 

"Dear! Dear!" almost moaned Mr. Tutt. "I'd heard of you a great manytimes but I never realized before what an unscrupulous man you were!Anyhow, I'm glad to have had a look at you. By the way, if you take thetrouble to dig through all that junk you'll find the certificate ofstock in the Great Jehoshaphat Oil Company you used to flim flam Mrs. Effingham with out of her ten thousand dollars. Maybe you can use it onsomeone else! Anyhow, she's about two thousand dollars to the good. Itisn't every widow who can get twenty per cent and then get her moneyback in full. "

The Hepplewhite Tramp

 "No freeman shall be taken, or imprisoned, or disseized or outlawed, or exiled, or in any way harmed--nor will we go upon or send upon him--save by the lawful judgment of his peers or by the law of the land. " --MAGNA CHARTA, Sec. 39. 

 "'Somebody has been lying in my bed--and here she is, ' cried the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice. " --THE THREE BEARS. 

One of the nicest men in New York was Mr. John De Puyster Hepplewhite. The chief reason for his niceness was his entire satisfaction withhimself and the padded world in which he dwelt, where he was asprotected from all shocking, rough or otherwise unpleasant things as ashrinking débutante from the coarse universe of fact. Being thusshielded from every annoyance and irritation by a host of sycophants helived serenely in an atmosphere of unruffled calm, gazing down benignlyand with a certain condescension from the rarefied altitude of hisFifth Avenue windows, pleased with the prospect of life as it appearedto him to be and only slightly conscious of the vileness of his fellowman. 

Certainly he was not conscious at all of the existence of the celebratedlaw firm of Tutt & Tutt. Such vulgar persons were not of his sphere. Hisown lawyers were gray-headed, dignified, rather smart attorneys whomoved only in the best social circles and practised their professionwith an air of elegance. When Mr. Hepplewhite needed advice he sent forthem and they came, chatted a while in subdued easy accents, and wentaway--like cheerful undertakers. Nobody ever spoke in loud tones nearMr. Hepplewhite because Mr. Hepplewhite did not like anything loud--noteven clothes. He was, as we have said, quite one of the nicest men inNew York. 

At the moment when Mrs. Witherspoon made her appearance he was sittingin his library reading a copy of "Sainte-Beuve" and waiting for Bibby, the butler, to announce tea. It was eight minutes to five and there wasstill eight minutes to wait; so Mr. Hepplewhite went on reading"Sainte-Beuve. "

Then "Mrs. Witherspoon!" intoned Bibby, and Mr. Hepplewhite rosequickly, adjusted his eye-glass and came punctiliously forward. 

"My dear Mrs. Witherspoon!" he exclaimed crisply. "I am reallydelighted to see you. It was quite charming of you to give me thisweek-end. "

"Adorable of you to ask me Mr. Hepplewhite!" returned the lady. "I'vebeen looking forward to this visit for weeks. What a sweet room? Is thata Corot?"

"Yes--yes!" murmured her host modestly. "Rather nice, I think, eh? I'llshow you my few belongings after tea. Now will you go upstairs first orhave tea first?"

"Just as you say, " beamed Mrs. Witherspoon. "Perhaps I had better run upand take off my veil. "

"Whichever you prefer, " he replied chivalrously. "Do exactly as youlike. Tea will be ready in a couple of minutes. "

"Then I think I'll run up. "

"Very well. Bibby, show Mrs. Witherspoon--"

"Very good, sir. This way, please, madam. Stockin', fetch Mrs. Witherspoon's bag from the hall. "

Mr. Hepplewhite stood rubbing his delicate hands in front of the fire, telling himself what a really great pleasure it was to have Mrs. Witherspoon staying with him over the week-end. He was having a dinnerparty for her that evening--of forty-eight. All that it had beennecessary for him to do to have the party was to tell Mr. Sadducee, hissecretary, that he wished to have it and direct him to send theinvitations from List Number One and then to tell Bibby the same thingand to order the chef to serve Dinner Number Four--only to haveJohannisberger Cabinet instead of Niersteiner. 

All these things were highly important to Mr. Hepplewhite, for upon theabsolute smoothness with which tea and dinner were served and theaccuracy with which his valet selected socks to match his tie his entirehappiness, to say nothing of his peace of mind, depended. His daily lifeconsisted of a series of subdued and nicely adjusted social events. Theywere forecast for months ahead. Nothing was ever done on the spur of themoment at Mr. Hepplewhite's. He could tell to within a couple of secondsjust exactly what was going to occur during the balance of the day, theremainder of Mrs. Witherspoon's stay and the rest of the month. It wouldhave upset him very much not to know exactly what was going to happen, for he was a meticulously careful host and being a creature of habit theunexpected was apt to agitate him extremely. 

So now as he stood rubbing his hands it was in the absolute certaintythat in just a few more seconds one of the footmen would appear betweenthe tapestry portières bearing aloft a silver tray with the tea things, and then Bibby would come in with the paper, and presently Mrs. Witherspoon would come down and she would make tea for him and theywould talk about tea, and Aiken, and whether the Abner Fullertons weregoing to get a domestic or foreign divorce, and how his bridge was thesedays. It would be very nice, and he rubbed his hands very gently andwaited for the Dresden clock to strike five in the subdued and decorousway that it had. But he did not hear it strike. 

Instead a shriek rang out from the hall above, followed by yells andfeet pounding down the stairs. Mr. Hepplewhite turned cold and somethinghard rose up in his throat. His sight dimmed. And then Bibby burst in, pale and with protruding eyes. 

"There was a man in the guest room!" he gasped. "Stockin's got him. Whatshall we do?"

At that moment Mrs. Witherspoon followed. 

"Oh, Mr. Hepplewhite! Oh, Mr. Hepplewhite!" she gasped, staggeringtoward him. 

Mr. Hepplewhite would have taken her in his arms and attempted tocomfort her only it was not done in Mr. Hepplewhite's set unless underextreme provocation. So he pressed an armchair upon her; or, rather, pressed her into an armchair; and leaned against the bookcase feelingvery faint. He was extremely agitated. 

"S-send for the police! S-s-send for B-burk!" he stuttered. Burk was ahusky watchman who also acted as a personal guard for Mr. Hepplewhite. 

An alarm began to beat a deafening staccato in the hall outside thelibrary. Bibby rushed gurgling from the room. Several tall men in kneebreeches and silk stockings dashed excitedly up and down stairs usingexpressions such as had never before been heard by Mr. Hepplewhite, andthe clanging gong of a police wagon was audible as it clattered up theAvenue. 

"Oh, Mr. Hepplewhite, " whispered Mrs. Witherspoon, unconsciously seekinghis hand. "I never was so frightened in my life!"

Then the gong stopped and the police poured into the house and up thestairs. There were muffled noises and suppressed ejaculations of "Aw, come on there, now! I've got him, Mike! No funny business now, you! Comealong quiet!"

The whole house seemed blue with policemen, and Mr. Hepplewhite becameaware of a very fat man in a blue cap marked Captain, who removed thecap deferentially and otherwise indicated that he was making obeisance. Behind the fat man stood three other equally fat men, who held betweenthem with grim firmness, by arm, neck and shoulder, a much smaller--infact, quite a small--man shabby, unkempt, and with a desperate look uponhis unshaven face. 

"We've got him, all right, Mr. Hepplewhite!" exulted the captain, obviously grateful that God had vouchsafed to deliver the criminal intohis and not into other hands. "Shall I take him to the house--or do youwant to examine him?"

"I?" ejaculated Mr. Hepplewhite. "Mercy, no! Take him away as quickly aspossible!"

"As you say, sir, " wheezed the captain. "Come along, boys! Take him overto court and arraign him!"

"Yes, do!" urged Mrs. Witherspoon. "And arraign him as hard as you can;for he really frightened me nearly to death, the terrible man!"

"Leave him to me, ma'am!" adjured the captain "Will you have your butleract as complainant sir?" he asked. 

"Why--yes--Bibby will do whatever is proper, " agreed Mr. Hepplewhite. "It will not be necessary for me to go to court, will it?"

"Oh, no!" answered the captain. "Mr. Bibby will do all right. I supposewe had better make the charge burglary, sir?"

"I suppose so, " replied Mr. Hepplewhite vaguely. 

"Get on, boys, " ordered the captain. "Good evening, sir. Good evening, ma'am. Step lively, you!"

The blue cloud faded away, bearing with it both Bibby and the burglar. Then the third footman brought the belated tea. 

"What a frightful thing to have happen!" grieved Mrs. Witherspoon as shepoured out the tea for Mr. Hepplewhite. "You don't take cream, do you?"

"No, thanks, " he answered. "I find too much cream hard to digest. I haveto be rather careful, you know. By the way, you haven't told me wherethe burglar was or what he was doing when you went into the room. "

"He was in the bed, " said Mrs. Witherspoon. 

 * * * * *

"In the 'Decay of Lying, ' Mr. Tutt, " said Tutt thoughtfully, as hedropped in for a moment's chat after lunch, "Oscar Wilde says, 'There isno essential incongruity between crime and culture. '"

The senior partner removed his horn-rimmed spectacles and carefullypolished the lenses with a bit of chamois, which he produced from hiswatch pocket, meanwhile resting the muscles of his forehead by elevatinghis eyebrows until he somewhat resembled an inquiring but good-naturedowl. 

"That's plain enough, " he replied. "The most highly cultivated peopleare often the most unscrupulous. I go Oscar one better and declare thatthere is a distinct relationship between crime and progress!"

"You don't say, now!" ejaculated Tutt. "How do you make that out?"

Mr. Tutt readjusted his spectacles and slowly selected a stogy from thebundle in the dusty old cigar box. 

"Crime, " he announced, "is the violation of the will of the majority asexpressed in the statutes. The law is wholly arbitrary and depends uponpublic opinion. Acts which are crimes in one century or country becomevirtues in another, and vice versa. Moreover, there is no difference, except one of degree, between infractions of etiquette and of law, eachof which expresses the feelings and ideas of society at a given moment. Violations of good taste, manners, morals, illegalities, wrongs, crimes--they are all fundamentally the same thing, the insistence onone's own will in defiance of society as a whole. The man who keeps hishat on in a drawing-room is essentially a criminal because he prefershis own way of doing things to that adopted by his fellows. "

"That's all right, " answered Tutt. "But how about progress?"

"Why, that is simple, " replied his partner. "The man who refuses to bowto habit, tradition, law--who thinks for himself and acts for himself, who evolves new theories, who has the courage of his convictions andstakes his life and liberty upon them--that man is either a statesman, aprophet or a criminal. And in the end he is either hailed as a hero anda liberator or is burned, cast into prison or crucified. "

Tutt looked interested. 

"Well, now, " he returned, helping himself from the box, "I never thoughtof it, but, of course, it's true. Your proposition is that progressdepends on development and development depends on new ideas. If the newidea is contrary to those of society it is probably criminal. If itsinventor puts it across, gets away with it, and persuades society thathe is right he is a leader in the march of progress. If he fails he goesto jail. Hence the relationship between crime and progress. Why not saythat crime is progress?"

"If successful it is, " answered Mr. Tutt. "But the moment it issuccessful it ceases to be crime. "

"I get you, " nodded Tutt. "Here to-day it is a crime to kill one'sgrandmother; but I recall reading that among certain savage tribes to doso is regarded as a highly virtuous act. Now if I convince society thatto kill one's grandmother is a good thing it ceases to be a crime. Society has progressed. I am a public benefactor. "

"And if you don't persuade society you go to the chair, " remarked Mr. Tutt laconically. 

"To use another illustration, " exclaimed Tutt, warming to the subject, "the private ownership of property at the present time is recognized andprotected by the law, but if we had a Bolshevik government it might be acrime to refuse to share one's property with others. "

"In that case if you took your share of another's property by force, instead of being a thief you would be a Progressive, " smiled hispartner. 

Tutt robbed his forehead. 

"Looking at it that way, you know, " said he, "makes it seem as ifcriminals were rather to be admired. "

"Well, some of them are, and a great multitude of them certainly were, "answered Mr. Tutt. "All the early Christian martyrs were criminals inthe sense that they were law-breakers. "

"And Martin Luther, " suggested Tutt. 

"And Garibaldi, " added Mr. Tutt. 

"And George Washington--maybe?" hazarded the junior partner. 

Mr. Tutt shrugged his high shoulders. 

"You press the analogy a long way, but--in a sense every successfulrevolutionist was in the beginning a criminal--as every rebel is andperforce must be, " he replied. 

"So, " said Tutt, "if you're a big enough criminal you cease to be acriminal at all. If you're going to be a crook, don't be a piker--it'stoo risky. Grab everything in sight. Exterminate a whole nation, ifpossible. Don't be a common garden highwayman or pirate; be a Napoleonor a Willy Hohenzollern. "

"You have the idea, " replied Mr. Tutt. "Crime is unsuccessful defianceof the existing order of things. Once rebellion rises to the dignity ofrevolution murder becomes execution and the murderers becomebelligerents. Therefore, as all real progress involves a change in ordefiance of existing law, those who advocate progress are essentiallycriminally minded, and if they attempt to secure progress by openlyrefusing to obey the law they are actual criminals. Then if theyprevail, and from being in the minority come into power, they are takenout of jail, banquets are given in their honor, and they are calledpatriots and heroes. Hence the close connection between crime andprogress. "

Tutt scratched his chin doubtfully. 

"That sounds pretty good, " he admitted, "but"--and he shook hishead--"there's something the matter with it. It doesn't work except inthe case of crimes involving personal rights and liberties. I see yourpoint that all progressives are criminals in the sense that they are'agin the law' as it is, but--I also see the hole in your argument, which is that the fact that all progressives are criminals doesn't makeall criminals progressive. Your proposition is only a half truth. "

"You're quite wrong about my theory being a half truth, " retorted Mr. Tutt. "It is fundamentally sound. The fellow who steals a razor or a fewdollars is regarded as a mean thief, but if he loots a trust company ortakes a million he's a financier. The criminal law, I maintain, isadministered for the purpose of protecting the strong from the weak, thesuccessful from the unsuccessful the rich from the poor. And, sir"--Mr. Tutt here shook his fist at an imaginary jury--"the man who wears a rednecktie in violation of the taste of his community or eats peas with hisknife is just as much a criminal as a man who spits on the floor whenthere's a law against it. Don't you agree with me?"

"I do not!" replied Tutt. "But that makes no difference. Neverthelesswhat you say about the criminal law being devised to protect the richfrom the poor interests me very much--very much indeed But I thinkthere's a flaw in that argument too, isn't there? Your proposition istrue only to the extent that the criminal law is invoked to protectproperty rights--and not life and liberty. Naturally the laws thatprotect property are chiefly of benefit to those who have it--the rich. "

"However that may be, " declared Mr. Tutt fiercely, "I claim that thecriminal laws are administered, interpreted and construed in favor ofthe rich as against the liberties of the poor, for the simple reasonthat the administrators of the criminal law desire to curry favor withthe powers that be. "

"The moral of which all is, " retorted the other, "that the law ought tobe very careful about locking up people. "

"At any rate those who have violated laws upon which there can be alegitimate difference of opinion, " agreed Mr. Tutt. 

"That's where we come in, " said Tutt. "We make the difference--even ifthere never was any before. "

Mr. Tutt chuckled. 

"We perform a dual service to society, " he declared. "We prevent the lawfrom making mistakes and so keep it from falling into disrepute, and weshow up its weak points and thus enable it to be improved. "

"And incidentally we keep many a future statesman and prophet from goingto prison, " said Tutt. "The name of the last one was SolomonRabinovitch--and he was charged with stealing a second-hand razor from acolored person described in the papers as one Morris Cohen. "

How long this specious philosophic discussion would have continued isproblematical had it not been interrupted by the entry of a younggentleman dressed with a somewhat ostentatious elegance, whose wizenedface bore an expression at once of vast good nature and of a deep andsubtle wisdom. 

It was clear that he held an intimate relationship to Tutt & Tutt fromthe familiar way in which he returned their cordial, if casual, salutations. 

"Well, here we are again, " remarked Mr. Doon pleasantly, seating himselfupon the corner of Mr. Tutt's desk and spinning his bowler hat upon theforefinger of his left hand. "The hospitals are empty. The Tombs is asdry as a bone. Everybody's good and every day'll be Sunday by and by. "

"How about that man who stole a razor?" asked Tutt. 

"Discharged on the ground that the fact that he had a full beard createda reasonable doubt, " replied Doon. "Honestly there's nothing doing in myline--unless you want a tramp case. "

"A tramp case!" exclaimed Tutt & Tutt. 

"I suppose you'd call it that, " he answered blandly. "I don't think hewas a burglar. Anyhow he's in the Tombs now, shouting for a lawyer. Ilistened to him and made a note of the case. "

Mr. Tutt pushed over the box of stogies and leaned back attentively. 

"You know the Hepplewhite house up on Fifth Avenue--that great stoneone with the driveway?"

The Tutts nodded. 

"Well, it appears that the prisoner--our prospective client--wassnooping round looking for something to eat and found that the butlerhad left the front door slightly ajar. Filled with a natural curiosityto observe how the other half lived, he thrust his way cautiously in andfound himself in the main hall--hung with tapestry and lined with standsof armor. No one was to be seen. Can't you imagine him standing there inhis rags--the Weary Willy of the comic supplements--gazing about him atthe _objets d'art_, the old masters, the onyx tables, thestatuary--wondering where the pantry was and whether the housekeeperwould be more likely to feed him or kick him out?"

"Weren't any of the domestics about?" inquired Tutt. 

"Not one. They were all taking an afternoon off, except the thirdassistant second man who was reading 'The Pilgrim's Progress' in theservants' hall. To resume, our friend was not only very hungry, but verytired. He had walked all the way from Yonkers, and he needed everythingfrom a Turkish bath to a manicuring. He had not been shaved for weeks. His feet sank almost out of sight in the thick nap of the carpets. Itwas quiet, warm, peaceful in there. A sense of relaxation stole overhim. He hated to go away, he says, and he meditated no wrong. But hewanted to see what it was like upstairs. 

"So up he went. It was like the palace of 'The Sleeping Beauty. 'Everywhere his eyes were soothed by the sight of hothouse plants, marblefloors, priceless rugs, luxurious divans--"

"Stop!" cried Tutt. "You are making me sleepy!"

"Well, that's what it did to him. He wandered along the upper hall, peeking into the different rooms, until finally he came to a beautifulchamber finished entirely in pink silk. It had a pink rug--of silk; thefurniture was upholstered in pink silk, the walls were lined with pinksilk and in the middle of the room was a great big bed with a pink silkcoverlid and a canopy of the same. It seemed to him that that bed musthave been predestined for him. Without a thought for the morrow hejumped into it, pulled the coverlid over his head and went fast asleep. 

"Meanwhile, at tea time Mrs. De Lancy Witherspoon arrived for theweek-end. Bibby, the butler, followed by Stocking, the second man, bearing the hand luggage, escorted the guest to the Bouguereau Room, asthe pink-silk chamber is called. "

Mr. Bonnie Doon, carried away by his own powers of description, wavedhis hand dramatically at the old leather couch against the side wall, in which Weary Willy was supposed to be reclining. 

"Can't you see 'em?" he declaimed. "The haughty Bibby with nose in air, preceding the great dame of fashion, enters the pink room and comes toattention, 'This way, madam!' he declaims, and Mrs. Witherspoon sweepsacross the threshold. " Bonnie Doon, picking up an imaginary skirt, waddled round Mr. Tutt and approached the couch. Suddenly he startedback. 

"Oh, la, la!" he half shrieked, dancing about. "There is a man in thebed!"

Both Tutts stared hard at the couch as if fully expecting to see theform of Weary Willy thereon. Bonnie Doon had a way of making thingsappear very vivid. 

"And sure enough, " he concluded, "there underneath the coverlid in themiddle of the bed was a huddled heap with a stubby beard projecting likeExcalibur from a pink silk lake!"

"Excuse me, " interrupted Tutt. "But may I ask what this is all about?"

"Why, your new case, to be sure, " grinned Bonnie, who, had he beenemployed by any other firm, might have run the risk of being regarded asan ambulance chaser. "To make a long and tragic story short, they sentfor the watchman, whistled for a policeman, telephoned for the hurry-upwagon, and haled the sleeper away to prison--where he is now, waitingto be tried. "

"Tried!" ejaculated Mr. Tutt. "What for?"

"For crime, to be sure, " answered Mr. Doon. 

"What crime?"

"I don't know. They'll find one, of course. "

Mr. Tutt swiftly lowered his legs from the desk and brought his fistdown upon it with a bang. 

"Outrageous! What was I just telling you, Tutt!" he cried, a flushcoming into his wrinkled face. "This poor man is a victim of theoverzealousness which the officers of the law exhibit in protecting theprivileges and property of the rich. If John De Puyster Hepplewhite fellasleep in somebody's vestibule the policeman on post would send him homein a cab; but if a hungry tramp does the same thing he runs him in. IfJohn De Puyster Hepplewhite should be arrested for some crime they wouldlet him out on bail; while the tramp is imprisoned for weeks awaitingtrial, though under the law he is presumed to be innocent. Is hepresumed to be innocent? Not much! He is presumed to be guilty, otherwise he would not be there. But what is he presumed to be guiltyof? That's what I want to know! Just because this poor man--hungry, thirsty and weary--happened to select a bed belonging to John De PuysterHepplewhite to lie on he is thrown into prison, indicted by a grandjury, and tried for felony! Ye gods! 'Sweet land of liberty!'"

"Well, he hasn't been tried yet, " replied Bonnie Doon. "If you feel thatway about it why don't you defend him?"

"I will!" shouted Mr. Tutt, springing to his feet. "I'll defend him andacquit him!"

He seized his tall hat, placed it upon his head and strode rapidlythrough the door. 

"He will too!" remarked Bonnie, winking at Tutt. 

"He thinks that tramp is either a statesman or a prophet!" mused Tutt, his mind reverting to his partner's earlier remarks. 

"He won't think so after he's seen him, " replied Mr. Doon. 

It sometimes happens that those who seek to establish great principlesand redress social evils involve others in an involuntary martyrdom farfrom their desires. Mr. Tutt would have gone to the electric chairrather than see the Hepplewhite Tramp, as he was popularly called by thenewspapers convicted of a crime, but the very fact that he had becomehis legal champion interjected a new element into the situation, particularly as O'Brien, Mr. Tutt's arch enemy in the districtattorney's office, had been placed in charge of the case. 

It would have been one thing to let Hans Schmidt--that was the tramp'sname--go, if after remaining in the Tombs until he had been forgotten bythe press he could have been unobtrusively hustled over the Bridge ofSighs to freedom. Then there would have been no comeback. But withEphraim Tutt breathing fire and slaughter, accusing the police anddistrict attorney of being trucklers to the rich and great, andoppressors of the poor--law breakers, in fact--O'Brien found himself inthe position of one having an elephant by the tail and unable to let go. 

In fact, it looked as if the case of the Hepplewhite Tramp might becomea political issue. That there was something of a comic side to it madeit all the worse. 

"Holy cats, boys!" snorted District Attorney Peckham to the circle ofdisgruntled police officers and assistants gathered about him on theoccasion described by the reporters as his making a personalinvestigation of the case, "Why in the name of common sense didn't yousimply boot the fellow into the street?"

"I wish we had, counselor!" assented the captain of the Hepplewhiteprecinct mournfully. "But we thought he was a burglar. I guess he was, at that--and it was Mr. Hepplewhite's house. "

"I've heard that until I'm sick of it!" retorted Peckham. 

"One thing is sure--if we turn him out now Tutt will sue us all forfalse arrest and put the whole administration on the bum, " snarledO'Brien. 

"But I didn't know the tramp would get Mr. Tutt to defend him, "expostulated the captain. "Anyhow, ain't it a crime to go to sleep inanother man's bed?"

"If it ain't it ought to be!" declared his plain-clothes mansententiously. "Can't you indict him for burglary?"

"You can indict all day; the thing is to convict!" snapped Peckham. "It's up to you, O'Brien, to square this business so that the law isvindicated--somehow It must be a crime to go into a house on FifthAvenue and use it as a hotel. Why, you can't cross the street fasterthan a walk these days without committing a crime. Everything's acrime. "

"Sure thing, " agreed the captain. "I never yet had any trouble finding acrime to charge a man with, once I got the nippers on him. "

"That's so, " interjected the plain-clothes man. "Did you ever know itwas a crime to mismanage a steam boiler? Well, it is. "

"Quite right, " agreed Mr. Magnus, the indictment clerk. "The greatdifficulty for the perfectly honest man nowadays is to avoid some act oromission which the legislature has seen fit to make a crime without hisknowledge. Refilling a Sarsaparilla bottle, for instance, or getting upa masquerade ball or going fishing or playing on Sunday or loiteringabout a building to overhear what people are talking about inside--"

"That's no crime, " protested the captain scornfully. 

"Yes, it is too!" retorted Mr. Magnus, otherwise known to his fellows asCaput, because of his supposed cerebral inflation. "Just like it is acrime to have any kind of a show or procession on Sunday except afuneral, in which case it's a crime to make a disbursing noise at it. "

"What's a disbursing noise?" demanded O'Brien. 

"I don't know, " admitted Magnus. "But that's the law anyway. You can'tmake a disbursing noise at a funeral on Sunday. "

"Oh, hell!" ejaculated the captain. "Come to think of it, it's a crimeto spit. What man is safe?"

"It occurs to me, " continued Mr. Magnus thoughtfully, "that it is acrime under the law to build a house on another man's land; now I shouldsay that there was a close analogy between doing that and sleeping inhis bed. "

"Hear! Hear!" commented O'Brien. "Caput Magnus, otherwise known as BigHead, there is no doubt but that your fertile brain can easily devise away out of our present difficulty. "

"Well, I've no time to waste on tramp cases, " remarked DistrictAttorney Peckham. "I've something more important to attend to. Indictthis fellow and send him up quick. Charge him with everything in sightand trust in the Lord. That's the only thing to be done. Don't bother meabout it, that's all!"

Meantime Mr. Hepplewhite became more and more agitated. Entirely againsthis will and, so far as he could see, without any fault of his own, hesuddenly found himself the center of a violent and acrimoniouscontroversy respecting the fundamental and sacred rights of freemenwhich threatened to disrupt society and extinguish the supremacy of thedominant local political organization. 

On the one hand he was acclaimed by the conservative pulpit and press asa public-spirited citizen who had done exactly the rightthing--disinterestedly enforced the law regardless of his ownconvenience and safety as a matter of principle and for the sake of thecommunity--a moral hero; on the other, though he was president ofseveral charitable organizations and at least one orphan asylum he wasexecrated as a heartless brute, an oppressor of the poor, an octopus, asoulless capitalist who fattened on the innocent and helpless andwho--Mr. Hepplewhite was a bachelor--probably if the truth could beknown lived a life of horrid depravity and crime. 

Indeed there was a man named Tutt, of whom Mr. Hepplewhite had neverbefore heard, who publicly declared that he, Tutt, would show him, Hepplewhite, up for what he was and make him pay with his body and hisblood, to say nothing of his money, for what he had done and caused tobe done. And so Mr. Hepplewhite became even more agitated, until hedreamed of this Tutt as an enormous bird like the fabled roc, with amalignant face and a huge hooked beak that some day would nip him in theabdomen and fly, croaking, away with him. Mrs. Witherspoon had returnedto Aiken, and after the first flood of commiserations from his friendson Lists Numbers One, Two, Three and Four he felt neglected, lonely andrather fearful. 

And then one morning something happened that upset his equanimityentirely. He had just started out for a walk in the park when a flashyperson who looked like an actor walked impudently up to him and handedhim a piece of paper in which was wrapped a silver half dollar. In aword Mr. Hepplewhite was subpoenaed and the nervous excitement attendantupon that operation nearly caused his collapse. For he was therebycommanded to appear before the Court of General Sessions of the Peaceupon the following Monday at ten a. M. As a witness in a criminal actionprosecuted by the People of the State of New York against Hans Schmidt. Moreover, the paper was a dirty-brown color and bore the awful name ofTutt. He returned immediately to the house and telephoned for Mr. Edgerton, his lawyer, who at once jumped into a taxi on the corner ofWall and Broad Streets and hurried uptown. 

"Edgerton, " said Hepplewhite faintly as the lawyer entered his library, "this whole unfortunate affair has almost made me sick. I had nothing todo with the arrest of this man Schmidt. The police did everything. Andnow I'm ordered to appear as a witness! Why, I hardly looked at the man. I shouldn't know him if I saw him. Do I have to go to court?"

Mr. Edgerton smiled genially in a manner which he thought wouldencourage Mr. Hepplewhite. 

"I suppose you'll have to go to court. You can't help that, you know, ifyou've been subpoenaed. But you can't testify to anything that I cansee. It's just a formality. "

"Formality!" groaned his client. "Well, I supposed the arrest was just aformality. "

Mr. Edgerton smiled again rather unconvincingly. 

"Well, you see, you can't always tell what will happen when you oncestart something, " he began. 

"But I didn't start anything, " answered Mr. Hepplewhite. "I had nothingto say about it. "

At that moment Bibby appeared in the doorway. 

"Excuse me, sir, " he said. "There is a young man outside who asked me totell you that he has a paper he wishes to serve on you--and would youmind saving him the trouble of waiting for you to go out?"

"Another!" gagged Mr. Hepplewhite. 

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir, " stammered Bibby. 

Mr. Hepplewhite looked inquiringly at Mr. Edgerton and rose feebly. 

"He'll get you sooner or later, " declared the lawyer. "A man as wellknown as you can't avoid process. "

Mr. Hepplewhite bit his lips and went out into the hall. 

Presently he returned carrying a legal-looking bunch of papers. 

"Well, what is it this time?" asked Edgerton jocosely. 

"It's a suit for false imprisonment for one hundred thousand dollars!"choked Mr. Hepplewhite. 

Mr. Edgerton looked shocked. 

"Well, now you've got to convict him!" he declared. 

"Convict him?" retorted Mr. Hepplewhite. "I don't want to convict him. I'd gladly give a hundred thousand dollars to get out of the--the--darnthing!"

Which was as near profanity as he had ever permitted himself to go. 

 * * * * *

Upon the following Monday Mr. Hepplewhite proceeded to court--flanked byhis distinguished counsel in frock coats and tall hats--simply becausehe had been served with a dirty-brown subpoena by Tutt & Tutt; and hisdistress was not lessened by the crowd of reporters who joined him atthe entrance of the Criminal Courts Building; or by the flashlight bombthat was exploded in the corridor in order that the evening papers mightreproduce his picture on the front page. He had never been so much inthe public eye before, and he felt slightly defiled. For some curiousreason he had the feeling that he and not Schmidt was the actualdefendant charged with being guilty of something; nor was thisimpression dispelled even by listening to the indictment by which theGrand Jury charged Schmidt in eleven counts with burglary in the first, second and third degrees and with the crime of entering his, Hepplewhite's, house under circumstances not amounting to a burglary butwith intent to commit a felony, as follows:

"Therefore, to wit, on the eleventh day of January in the year of ourLord one thousand nine hundred and nineteen in the night-time of thesaid day at the ward, city and county aforesaid the dwelling house ofone John De Puyster Hepplewhite there situate, feloniously andburglariously did break into and enter there being then and there ahuman being in said dwelling house, with intent to commit some crimetherein, to wit, the goods, chattels, and personal property of the saidJohn De Puyster Hepplewhite, then and there being found, then and therefeloniously and burglariously to steal, take and carry away one silvertea service of the value of five hundred dollars and one pair of operaglasses of the value of five dollars each with force and arms----"

"But that silver tea service cost fifteen thousand dollars and weighseight hundred pounds!" whispered Mr. Hepplewhite. 

"Order in the court!" shouted Captain Phelan, pounding upon the oak railof the bar, and Mr. Hepplewhite subsided. 

Yet as he sat there between his lawyers listening to all theextraordinary things that the Grand Jury evidently had believed Schmidtintended to do, the suspicion began gradually to steal over him thatsomething was not entirely right somewhere. Why, it was ridiculous tocharge the man with trying to carry off a silver service weighing nearlyhalf a ton when he simply had gone to bed and fallen asleep. Still, perhaps that was the law. 

However, when the assistant district attorney opened the People's caseto the jury Mr. Hepplewhite began to feel much more at ease. IndeedO'Brien made it very plain that the defendant had been guilty of a verygrievous--he pronounced it "gree-vious"--offense in forcing his way intoanother man's private house. It might or might not be burglary--thatwould depend upon the testimony--but in any event it was a criminal, illegal entry and he should ask for a conviction. A man's house was hiscastle and--to quote from that most famous of orators andstatesmen--Edmund Burke--"the wind might enter, the rain might enter, but the King of England might not enter!" Thus Schmidt could not enterthe house of Hepplewhite without making himself amenable to the law. 

Hepplewhite was filled with admiration for Mr. O'Brien, and his droopingspirits reared their wilted heads as the prosecutor called Bibby to thestand and elicited from him the salient features of the case. The jurywas vastly interested in the butler personally, as well as his accountrendered in the choicest cockney of how he had discovered Schmidt in hismaster's bed. O'Brien bowed to Mr. Tutt and told him that he mightcross-examine. 

And then it was that Mr. Hepplewhite discovered why he had been hauntedby that mysterious feeling of guilt; for by some occult and subtlemethod of suggestion on the part of Mr. Tutt, the case, instead ofbeing a trial of Schmidt, resolved itself into an attack upon Mr. Hepplewhite and his retainers and upon the corrupt minions of the lawwho had violated every principle of justice, decency and morality inorder to accomplish the unscrupulous purposes of a mercilessaristocrat--meaning him. With biting sarcasm, Mr. Tutt forced from thewrithing Bibby the admission that the prisoner was sound asleep in thepink silk fastnesses of the Bouguereau Room when he was discovered thathe made no attempt to escape, that he did not assault anybody and thathe had appeared comatose from exhaustion; that there was no sign of abreak anywhere, and that the pair of opera glasses "worth five dollars_apiece_"--Tutt invited the court's attention to this ingenuousphraseology of Mr. Caput Magnus, as a literary curiosity--were a figmentof the imagination. 

In a word Mr. Tutt rolled Bibby up and threw him away, while his mastershuddered at the open disclosure of his trusted major-domo's vulgarity, mendacity and general lack of sportsmanship. Somehow all at once thecase began to break up and go all to pot. The jury got laughing atBibby, the footmen and the cops as Mr. Tutt painted for theiredification the scene following the arrival of Mrs. Witherspoon, whenSchmidt was discovered asleep, as Mr. Tutt put it, like Goldilocks inthe Little, Small, Wee Bear's bed. 

Stocking was the next witness, and he fared no better than had Bibby. O'Brien, catching the judge's eye, made a wry face and imperceptiblylowered his left lid--on the side away from the jury, thus officiallyindicating that, of course, the case was a lemon but that there wasnothing that could be done except to try it out to the bitter end. 

Then he rose and called out unexpectedly: "Mr. John De PuysterHepplewhite--take the stand!"

It was entirely unexpected. No one had suggested that he would be calledfor the prosecution. Possibly O'Brien was actuated by a slight touch ofmalice; possibly he wanted to be able, if the case was lost, to accuseHepplewhite of losing it on his own testimony. But at any rate hecertainly had no anticipation of what the ultimate consequence of hisact would be. 

Mr. Hepplewhite suddenly felt as though his entire intestinal mechanismhad been removed. But he had no time to take counsel of his fears. Everybody in the courtroom turned with one accord and looked at him. Herose, feeling as one who dreams; that he is naked in the midst of amultitude. He shrank back hesitating, but hostile hands reached out andpushed him forward. Cringing, he slunk to the witness chair, and for thefirst time faced the sardonic eyes of the terrible Tutt, his adversarywho looked scornfully from Hepplewhite to the jury and then from thejury back to Hepplewhite as if to say: "Look at him! Call you this aman?"

"You are the Mr. Hepplewhite who has been referred to in the testimonyas the owner of the house in which the defendant was found?" inquiredO'Brien. 

"Yes--yes, " answered Mr. Hepplewhite deprecatingly. 

"The first witness--Bibby--is in your employ?"

"Yes--yes. "

"Did you have a silver tea set of the value of--er--at least fivehundred dollars in the house?"

"It was worth fifteen thousand, " corrected Mr. Hepplewhite. 

"Oh! Now, have you been served by the defendant's attorneys with asummons and complaint in an action for false arrest in which damages areclaimed in the sum of one hundred thousand dollars?"

"I object!" shouted Mr. Tutt. "It is wholly irrelevant. "

"I think it shows the importance of the result of this trial to thewitness, " argued O'Brien perfunctorily. "It shows this case isn't anyjoke--even if some people seem to think it is. "

"Objection sustained, " ruled the court. "The question is irrelevant. Thejury is supposed to know that every case is important to thoseconcerned--to the defendant as well as to those who charge him withcrime. "

O'Brien bowed. 

"That's all. You may examine, Mr. Tutt. "

The old lawyer slowly unfolded his tall frame and gazed quizzically downupon the shivering Hepplewhite. 

"You have been sued by my client for one hundred thousand dollars, haven't you?" he demanded. 

"Object!" shot out O'Brien. 

"Overruled, " snapped the court. "It is a proper question forcross-examination. It may show motive. "

Mr. Hepplewhite sat helplessly until the shooting was over. 

"Answer the question!" suddenly shouted Mr. Tutt. 

"But I thought--" he began. 

"Don't think!" retorted the court sarcastically. "The time to think hasgone by. Answer!"

"I don't know what the question is, " stammered Mr. Hepplewhite, thoroughly frightened. 

"Lord! Lord!" groaned O'Brien in plain hearing of the jury. 

Mr. Tutt sighed sympathetically in mock resignation. 

"My dear sir, " he began in icy tones, "when you had my client arrestedand charged with being a burglar, had you made any personal inquiry asto the facts?"

"I didn't have him arrested!" protested the witness. 

"You deny that you ordered Bibby to charge the defendant with burglary?"roared Mr. Tutt. "Take care! You know there is such a crime as perjury, do you not?"

"No--I mean yes, " stuttered Mr. Hepplewhite abjectly. "That is, I'veheard about perjury--but the police attended to everything for me. "

"Aha!" cried Mr. Tutt, snorting angrily like the war horse depicted inthe Book of Job. "The police 'attended' to my client for you, did they?What do you mean--for you? Did you pay them for their little attention?"

"I always send them something on Christmas, " said Mr. Hepplewhite. "Justlike the postmen. "

Mr. Tutt looked significantly at the jury, while a titter ran round thecourt room. 

"Well, " he continued with patient irony, "what we wish to know iswhether these friends of yours whom you so kindly remember at Christmasdragged the helpless man away from your house, threw him into jail andcharged him with burglary by your authority?"

"I didn't think anything about it, " asserted Hepplewhite "Really Ididn't. I assumed that they knew what to do under such circumstances. Ididn't suppose they needed any authority from me. "

Mr. Tutt eyed sideways the twelve jurymen. 

"Trying to get out of it, are you? Attempting to avoid responsibility?Are you thinking of what your position will be if the defendant isacquitted--with an action against you for one hundred thousand dollars?"

Ashamed, terrified, humiliated, Mr. Hepplewhite almost burst into tears. He had suffered a complete moral disintegration--did not know where toturn for help or sympathy. The whole world seemed to have risen againsthim. He opened his mouth to reply, but the words would not come. Helooked appealingly at the judge, but the judge coldly ignored him. Thewhole room seemed crowded with a multitude of leering eyes. Why had Godmade him a rich man? Why was he compelled to suffer those terribleindignities? He was not responsible for what had been done--why then, was he being treated so abominably?

"I don't want this man punished!" he suddenly broke out in ferventexpostulation. "I have nothing against him. I don't believe he intendedto do any wrong. And I hope the jury will acquit him!"

"Oho!" whistled Mr. Tutt exultantly, while O'Brien gazed at Hepplewhitein stupefaction. _Was_ this a man?

"So you admit that the charge against my client is without foundation?"insisted Mr. Tutt. 

Hepplewhite nodded weakly. 

"I don't know rightly what the charge is--but I don't think he meant anyharm, " he faltered. 

"Then why did you have the police put him under arrest and hale himaway?" challenged Mr. Tutt ferociously. 

"I supposed they had to--if he came into my house, " said Mr. Hepplewhite. Then he added shamefacedly: "I know it sounds silly--butfrankly I did not know that I had anything to say in the matter. If yourclient has been injured by my fault or mistake I will gladly reimbursehim as handsomely as you wish. "

O'Brien gasped. Then he made a funnel of his hands and whispered towardthe bench: "Take it away, for heaven's sake!"

"That is all!" remarked Mr. Tutt with deep sarcasm, making an elaboratebow in the direction of Mr. Hepplewhite. "Thank you for your excellentintentions!"

A snicker followed Mr. Hepplewhite as he dragged himself back to hisseat among the spectators. 

He felt as though he had passed through a clothes wringer. Dimly heheard Mr. Tutt addressing the court. 

"And I move, Your Honor, " the lawyer was paying, "that you take thecounts for burglary in the first, second and third degrees away from thejury on the ground that there has been a complete failure of proof thatmy client broke into the house of this man Hepplewhite either by nightor by day, or that he assaulted anybody or stole anything there, or everintended to. "

"Motion granted, " agreed the judge. "I quite agree with you, Mr. Tutt. There is no evidence here of any breaking. In fact, the inferences areall the other way. "

"I further move that you take from the consideration of the jury theremaining count of illegally entering the house with intent to commit acrime and direct the jury to acquit the defendant for lack of evidence, "continued Mr. Tutt. 

"But what was your client doing in the house?" inquired the judge. "Hehad no particular business in it, had he?"

"That does not make his presence a crime, Your Honor, " retorted thelawyer. "A man is not guilty of a felony who falls asleep on my haycock. Why should he be if he falls asleep in my bed?"

The judge smiled. 

"We have no illegal entry statute with respect to fields or meadows, Mr. Tutt, " he remarked good-naturedly. "No, I shall be obliged to let thejury decide whether this defendant went into that house for an honestor dishonest purpose. It is clearly a proper question for them to passupon. Proceed with your case. "

Now when, as in the case of the Hepplewhite Tramp, the chief witness forthe prosecution throws up his hands and offers to repay the defendantfor the wrong he has done him, naturally it is all over but theshouting. 

"There is no need for me to call the defendant, " Mr. Tutt told thecourt, "in view of the admissions made by the last witness. I am readyto proceed with the summing up. "

"As you deem wise, " answered the judge. "Proceed then. "

Through a blur of sight and sound Mr. Hepplewhite dimly heard Mr. Tuttaddressing the jury and saw them lean forward to catch his every word. 

Beside him Mr. Edgerton was saying protestingly: "May I ask why you madethose fool statements on the witness stand?"

"Because I didn't want an innocent man convicted, " returned Mr. Hepplewhite tartly. 

"Well, you'll get your wish!" sniffed his lawyer. "And you'll get soakedfor about twenty thousand dollars for false arrest!"

"I don't care, " retorted the client. "And what's more I hope Mr. Tuttgets a substantial fee out of it. He strikes me as a lawyer who knowshis business!"

The oldest and fattest court officers, men so old and fat that theyremembered the trial of Boss Tweed and the days when Delancey Nicoll wasthe White Hope of the Brownstone Court House--declared Mr. Tutt'ssummation was the greatest that ever they heard. For the shrewd oldlawyer had an artist's hand with which he played upon the keyboard ofthe jury and knew just when to pull out the stops of the _vox humana_ ofpathos and the grand diapason of indignation and defiance. So he beganby tickling their sense of humor with an ironic description of afternoontea at Mr. Hepplewhite's, with Bibby and Stocking as chief actors, untilall twelve shook with suppressed laughter and the judge was forced tohide his face behind the _Law Journal_; ridiculed the idea of a criminalwho wanted to commit a crime calmly going to sleep in a pink silk bed inbroad daylight; and then brought tears to their eyes as he pictured thewretched homeless tramp, sick, footsore and starving, who, drawn by theneed of food and warmth to this silk nest of luxury, was clubbed, arrested and jailed simply because he had violated the supposed sanctityof a rich man's home. 

The jury watched him as intently as a dog watches a piece of meat heldover its nose. They smiled with him, they wept with him, they glared atMr. Hepplewhite and they gazed in a friendly way at Schmidt, whom Mr. Tutt had bailed out just before the trial. The very stars in theircourses seemed warring for Tutt & Tutt. In the words of Phelan: "Therewas nothing to it!"

"Thank God, " concluded Mr. Tutt eloquently, "that in this land ofliberty in which we are privileged to dwell no man can be convicted of acrime except by a jury of his peers--a right sacred under ourConstitution and inherited from Magna Charta, that foundation stone ofEnglish liberty, in which the barons forced King John to declare that'No freeman shall be taken, or imprisoned, or disseized, or outlawed, orexiled, or in any way harmed . .. Save by the lawful judgment of hispeers or by the law of the land. '

"Had I the time I would demonstrate to you the arbitrary character ofour laws and the inequality with which they are administered. 

"But in this case the chief witness has already admitted the innocenceof the defendant. There is nothing more to be said. The prosecution hascried '_Peccavi!_' I leave my client in your hands. "

He resumed his seat contentedly and wiped his forehead with his silkhandkerchief. The judge looked down at O'Brien with raised eyebrows. 

"I will leave the case to the jury on Your Honor's charge, " remarkedthe latter carelessly. 

"Gentlemen of the jury, " began the judge, "the defendant is accused ofentering the house of Mr. Hepplewhite with the intent to commit a crimetherein--"

Mr. Hepplewhite sat, his head upon his breast, for what seemed to himseveral hours. He had but one thought--to escape. His ordeal had beenfar worse than he had anticipated. But he had made a discovery. He hadsuddenly realized that one cannot avoid one's duties to one's fellows byleaving one's affairs to others--not even to the police. He perceivedthat he had lived with his head stuck in the sand. He had tried toescape from his responsibilities as a citizen by hiding behind the thickwalls of his stone mansion on Fifth Avenue. He made up his mind that hewould do differently if he ever had the chance. Meanwhile, was not thejury ever going to set the poor man free?

They had indeed remained out a surprisingly long time in order merely toreach a verdict which was a mere formality. Ah! There they were! Mr. Hepplewhite watched with palpitating heart while they straggled slowlyin. The clerk made the ordinary perfunctory inquiry as to what theirverdict was. Mr. Hepplewhite did not hear what the foreman said inreply, but he saw both the Tutts and O'Brien start from their seats andheard a loud murmur rise throughout the court room. 

"What's that!" cried the clerk in astonished tones. "What did you say, Mister Foreman?"

"I said that we find the defendant guilty, " replied the foreman calmly. 

Mr. Tutt stared incredulously at the twelve traitors who had betrayedhim. 

"Never mind, Mr. Tutt, " whispered Number Six confidentially. "You didthe best you could. Your argument was fine--grand--but nobody could evermake us believe that your client went into that house for any purposeexcept to steal whatever he could lay his hands on. Besides, it wasn'tMr. Hepplewhite's fault. He means well. And anyhow a nut like that hasgot to be protected against himself. "

He might have enlightened Mr. Tutt further upon the psychology of thesituation had not the judge at that moment ordered the prisonerarraigned at the bar. 

"Have you ever been convicted before?" asked His Honor sharply. 

"Sure, " replied the Hepplewhite Tramp carelessly. "I've done three orfour bits, I'm a burglar. But you can't give me more than a year forillegal entry. "

"That is quite true, " admitted His Honor stiffly. "And it isn't halfenough!" He hesitated. "Perhaps under the circumstances you'll tell uswhat you were doing in Mr. Hepplewhite's bed?"

"Oh, I don't mind, " returned the defendant with the superior air of onewho has put something over. "When I heard the guy in the knee breechescoming up the stairs I just dove for the slats and played I was asleep. "

Leaving the courthouse Mr. Tutt encountered Bonnie Doon. 

"Young man, " he remarked severely, "you assured me that fellow was onlya harmless tramp!"

"Well, " answered Bonnie, "that's what he said. "

"He says now he's a burglar, " retorted Mr. Tutt wrathfully. "I don'tbelieve he knows what he is. Did you ever hear of such an outrageousverdict? With not a scrap of evidence to support it?"

Bonnie lit a cigarette doubtfully. 

"Oh, I don't know, " he muttered. "The jury seems to have sized him uprather better than we did. "

"Jury!" growled Mr. Tutt, rolling his eyes heavenward. "'Sweet land ofliberty!'"

Lallapaloosa Limited

 "Ethics: The doctrine of man's duty in respect to himself and the rights of others. " --CENTURY DICTIONARY. 

 "I don't say that all these people couldn't be squared; but it is right to tell you that I shouldn't be sufficiently degraded in my own estimation unless I was insulted with a very considerable bribe. " --POOH-BAH. 

"I've been all over those securities, " Miss Wiggin informed Mr. Tutt ashe entered the office one morning, "and not a single one of them islisted on the Stock Exchange. "

"What securities are those?" asked her employer, hanging his tall hat onthe antiquated mahogany coat tree in the corner opposite the screen thatambushed the washing apparatus. "I don't remember any securities, " heremarked as he applied a match to the off end of a particularly greenand vicious-looking stogy. 

"Why, of course you do, Mr. Tutt!" insisted Miss Wiggin. "Don't youremember those great piles of bonds and stocks that Doctor Barrows lefthere with you to keep for him?"

"Oh, those!" Mr. Tutt smiled inscrutably. "Mr. Barrows is not aphysician, " he corrected her, running his eye over the General Sessionscalendar. "He's only a 'doc'--that is to say, one who doctors. You knowyou can doctor a lot of things besides the human anatomy. No, I guessthey're not listed on the Stock Exchange or anywhere else. "

"Well, here's a schedule I made of them--Miss Sondheim typed it--andtheir total face value is seventeen million eight hundred thousanddollars. I tried to find out all I could, but none of the firms on WallStreet had ever heard of any of them--excepting of one that was tradedin on the curb up to within a few weeks. There's Great Lakes andCanadian Southern Railway Company, " she went on, "Chicago Water Frontand Terminal Company, Great Geyser Texan Petroleum and Llano EstacadoLand Company--dozens and dozens of them, and not one has an office or, so far as I can find out, any tangible existence--but the one I spokeof. "

"Which is this great exception?" queried Mr. Tutt absently as hesearched through the _Law Journal_ for the case he was going to try thatafternoon. "You said one of them had been dealt in on the curb? Youastonish me!"

"It's got a funny name, " she answered. "It almost sounds as if theymeant it for a joke--Horse's Neck Extension. "

"I guess they meant it for a joke all right--on the public, " chuckledher employer. "How many shares are there?"

"A hundred thousand, " she answered. 

"Jumping Jehoshaphat!" ejaculated Mr. Tutt. "How on earth did old Docmanage to get hold of them?"

"It sold for only ten cents a share!" replied Miss Wiggin. "That wouldmean ten thousand dollars--"

"If Doc paid for it, " supplemented Mr. Tutt. "Which he probably didn't. What's it selling for now?"

"It isn't selling at all. "

Mr. Tutt pressed the button that summoned Willie. 

"When you haven't anything better to do, " he said to her, "why don't yougo round and see what has become of--of--Horse's Neck Extension?"

"I will, " assented Miss Wiggin. "It makes me feel rich just to talkabout such things. I just love it. "

"Many a slick crook has taken advantage of just that kind of feeling, "mused Mr. Tutt. "There are two things that women--particularly trainednurses--seem to like better than anything else in the world--babies andstock certificates. "

Then upon the arrival of the recalcitrant William he gathered up hispapers and took down his hat from the tree. 

"I wish you'd let me get your hat ironed, Mr. Tutt, " remarked MissWiggin. "It would cost you only fifty cents. "

"That's all you know about it, my dear, " he answered. "More likely itwould cost me a hundred thousand dollars. "

 * * * * *

Mr. Tobias Greenbaum, of Scherer, Hunn, Greenbaum & Beck, carefullyplaced his cigar where it would not char his Italian Renaissance deskand smoothed out the list which Mr. Elderberry, the secretary of TheHorse's Neck Extension Copper Mining Company, handed to him. The listwas typed on thin sheets; of foolscap and contained the names ofstockholders, but as it had lain rolled up in the bottom of Mr. Elderberry's desk for five years without being disturbed it was inclinedto resist the gentle pressure of Mr. Greenbaum's fingers. 

Mr. Greenbaum glanced sharply round the plate-glass lake that separatedhim from the other directors of Horse's Neck, rather as if he haddetected his associates in a crime. 

"Isaacs says, " he announced in an arrogant, almost insulting tone, though below the surface he was an entirely genial person, "that the newvein in the Amphalula runs into the west drift of Horse's Neck almost towhere we quit work in Number Nine five years ago. "

"If it does it will make it a bonanza property, " emphatically declaredhis partner, Mr. Scherer, a dolichocephalous person with very black hairand thin bluish cheeks. "It's a pity we didn't buy it all in at tencents a share. "

"We did!" retorted Greenbaum. "All that could be shaken out. We've gotall the stock that hasn't gravitated to the cemeteries. "

"Even if the Amphalula vein doesn't run into it it will come nearenough to make Horse's Neck worth dollars per share. It's aheads-I-win-tails-you-lose proposition, " commented Mr. Hunn dryly. "Whocontrols Amphalula?"

"We do, " snapped Greenbaum. 

"Then it's a cinch, " returned Hunn mildly. "Shake out the sleepers, reorganize, and sell or hold as seems most advisable later on. "

Mr. Elderberry cleared his throat tentatively. 

"If you gentlemen will pardon me--I have been considering this matterfor some little time, " he hazarded. Mr. Elderberry was not only theprofessional salaried secretary of Horse's Neck but was also treasurerof the Amphalula, and general factotum, representative and interlockingdirector for Scherer, Hunn, Greenbaum & Beck in their various miningenterprises, combining in his person almost as many offices as, Pooh-Bahin "The Mikado. " Though he could not have claimed to serve as "FirstLord of the Treasury, Lord Chief Justice, Commander-in-Chief, Lord HighAdmiral, Master of the Buck Hounds, Groom of the Back Stairs, Archbishopof Titipu and Lord Mayor, both acting and elect, all rolled into one, "he could with entire modesty have admitted the soft impeachment of beingsimultaneously treasurer of Amphalula, vice-president of Hooligan Gulchand Red Water, secretary of Horse's Neck, Holy Jo, Gargoyle Extension, Cowhide Number Five, Consolidated Bimetallic, Nevada Mastodon, LeapingFrog, Orelady Mine, Why Marry and Sol's Cliff Buttress, and president ofBlimp Consolidated. 

All these various properties were either owned or controlled by Scherer, Hunn, Greenbaum & Beck and had been acquired with the use of the sameoriginal capital in various entirely legal ways, which at the presentmoment are irrelevant. The firm was a strictly honorable business house, from both their own point of view and that of the Street. Everythingthey did was with and by the advice of counsel. Yet not one of theseactive-minded gentlemen, including Mr. Greenbaum, the dolichocephalousScherer and the acephalous Hunn, had ever done a stroke of productivework or contributed anything toward the common weal. In fact, distressto somebody in some form, and usually to a large number of persons, inevitably followed whatever deal they undertook, since their businesswas speculating in mining properties and unloading the bad ones upon anunsuspecting public which Scherer, Hunn, Greenbaum & Beck had permittedto deceive itself. 

Thus, when Greenbaum called upon Mr. Elderberry for advice, it savoredstrongly of Koko's consulting Pooh-Bah and was sometimes almost asconfusing, for just as Pooh-Bah on these occasions was won't to reply, "Certainly. In which of my capacities? As First Lord of the Treasury, Lord Chamberlain, Attorney-General, Chancellor of the Exchequer, PrivyPurse or Private Secretary?" so the financial and corporate Elderberrymight equally well ask: "Exactly. But are you seeking my advice assecretary of Horse's Neck, of Holy Jo, of Cowhide Number Five, or asvice-president of Hooligan Gulch and Red Water, treasurer of Amphalulaor president of Blimp Consolidated?"

Just now it was, of course, obvious that he was addressing the companyin his capacity of secretary of Horse's Neck. 

"It goes without saying, gentlemen, that this property is pretty nearlydown and out. You will recall that most of the insiders sold out on thetail of the Goldfield Boom and waited for the market to sag until wecould buy in again. The mines are full of water, work was abandoned overfour years ago, and the property is practically defunct. The originalcapitalization was ten million shares at one dollar a share. We own orcontrol at least four million shares, for which we paid ten to fifteencents, while we had sold our original holdings for one dollar sixty toone dollar ninety-five a share. While Horse's Neck represents a handsomeprofit--in my opinion"--he cleared his throat again as if deprecatingthe vulgarity of his phrase--"it is good for another whirl. "

"You say it's full of water?" inquired Hunn. 

"It will cost about fifty thousand dollars to pump out the mines and ahundred thousand to repair the machinery. Then there's quite anindebtedness--about seventy-five thousand; and tax liens--another fifty. Half a million dollars would put Horse's Neck on the map, and if theAmphalula vein crosses the property it will be worth ten millions. If itdoesn't, the chance that it is going to will make a market for thestock. "

Mr. Elderberry swept with a bland inquiring eye the shore of the glassysea about which his associates were gathered. 

"I've been over the ground, " announced Greenbaum "and it's a goodgamble. We want Horse's Neck for ourselves--at any rate until we areconfident that it's a real lemon. Half a million will do it. I'llpersonally put up a hundred thousand. "

"How are you going to get rid of the fifty thousand other stockholders?"asked Mr. Beck dubiously "We don't want them trailing along with us. "

"I propose, " answered Mr. Elderberry brightly, in his capacity as chiefconspirator for Scherer, Hunn, _et al. _, "that we organize a newcorporation to be called 'Lallapaloosa Limited' and capitalize it at amillion dollars--one million shares at a dollar a share. Then we willexecute a contract between Horse's Neck and Lallapaloosa by the terms ofwhich the old bankrupt corporation will sell to the new corporation allits assets for one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars. Weunderwrite the stock of Lallapaloosa at fifty cents a share, thussupplying the new corporation with the funds with which to purchase theproperties of the old. In a word we shall get Horse's Neck for a hundredand twenty-five thousand and have three hundred and seventy-fivethousand left out of what we subscribe to underwrite the stock to putit on its feet. "

"That's all right, " debated Hunn. "But how about the other stockholdersin Horse's Neck that Beck referred to? Where do they come in?"

"I've thought of that, " returned Elderberry. "Of course you can't justsqueeze 'em out entirely. That wouldn't be legal. They must be given thechance to subscribe at par to the stock of the new corporation on thebasis of one share in the new for every ten they hold in the old; or, asHorse's Neck is a Delaware corporation, to have their old stockappraised under the laws of Delaware. In point of fact, they've allwritten off their holdings in Horse's Neck as a total loss years ago andyou couldn't drag 'em into putting in any new money. They'll simply letit go--forfeit their stock in Horse's Neck and be wiped out because theywere not willing to go in and reorganize the property with us. "

"They would if they knew about Amphalula, " remarked Beck. 

"Well, they don't!" snapped Greenbaum, "and we're under no obligationsto tell 'em. They can infer what they like from the fact that Horse'sNeck has been selling for ten cents a share for the last three years. "

"Is that right, Chippingham?" inquired Beck of the attorney who was inattendance. "I mean--is it legal?"

"Perfectly legal, " replied Mr. Chippingham conclusively. "A corporationhas a perfect right to dispose of its entire assets for a properconsideration and if any minority stockholder feels aggrieved he cantake the matter to the Delaware courts and get his equity assessed. Besides, everybody is treated alike--all the stockholders in Horse'sNeck can subscribe pro rata for Lallapaloosa. "

"Only they won't, " grinned Scherer. 

"And so, as they are wiped out--the new corporation--that is us--in factgets their equity, just as much as if they had deeded it to us. "

"That is, we get for nothing about one-half the value of the property, "agreed Elderberry. "Now, I've been over the list and I don't thinkyou'll hear a peep from any of them. "

 "He's got 'em on the list--he's got 'em on the list; And they'll none of 'em be missed--they'll none of 'em be missed!"

hummed Mr. Beck. "It looks good to me! I'll take a hundred thousand. "

"Mr. Chippingham has the papers drawn already, " continued Elderberry. "Of course you've got to give the old stockholders notice, but we canrush the thing through and before anybody wakes up the thing will bedone. Then they can holler all they want. "

"Well, I'll come in, " announced Hunn complacently. 

"So will I, " echoed Scherer. "And the firm can underwrite the lasthundred thousand, and that will clean it up. "

"Is it all right for us to underwrite the stock ourselves at halfprice?" inquired Mr. Beck. "I mean--is it legal?"

"Sure!" reiterated Mr. Chippingham. "Somebody's got to underwrite it;why not us?"

"Move we adjourn, " said Mr. Greenbaum. "Elderberry--the usual. "

Mr. Elderberry removed from his change pocket five glittering goldpieces and slid one across the glass sheet to each director. 

"Second motion. Carried! All up--seventh inning!" smiled Mr. Scherer;and the directors, pocketing their gold pieces, arose. 

If, as it has been defined, ethics consists of a "system of principlesand rules concerning moral obligations and regard for the rights ofothers, " it may be interesting to speculate as to whether or not thesegentlemen had any or not, and, if so, what it may have been. But inconsidering this somewhat nice question it should be borne in mind thatMessrs. Scherer, Hunn, Greenbaum & Beck were bankers of standing, andwere advised by a firm of attorneys of the highest reputation. On itsface, and as it was about to be represented to the stockholders ofHorse's Neck, the proposition appeared fair enough. 

The circular, shortly after sent out to all the names upon the list, stated succinctly that financial and labor conditions had been such thatit had been found impossible to operate the mine profitably for severalyears, that it had depreciated greatly in value owing to the water whichhad accumulated in its lower levels, that it had exhausted its surplus, that a heavy indebtedness had accumulated, that the corporation'soutstanding notes had been protested and that the property would be soldunder foreclosure unless money was immediately raised to pay them, theinterest due and taxes; that half a million dollars was needed to putthe property in operation and that there was no way to secure it, asnobody was willing to loan money to a bankrupt mining concern. Thatunder these circumstances no practical method had been proposed exceptto organize a new corporation capitalized at one million instead of ten, to the stock of which each shareholder in Horse's Neck might subscribein proportion to his holdings, at par, and to which the assets of theold corporation should be transferred practically for its debts. Thatthis, in a word, was the only way to save the situation and possiblymake a go of a bad business, and that it was a gamble in which the oldstockholders had a right, up to a certain date, to participate if theysaw fit. Those that did not would find their stock in Horse's Neckentirely valueless as it would have no assets left which had not beentransferred to Lallapaloosa. Stockholders who were dissatisfied couldprotest against the enabling resolution to be offered at the annualmeeting of the stockholders of Horse's Neck to be held the followingweek at Wilmington, Delaware, and could avail themselves of the right tohave their equity assessed under the laws of Delaware, but as theliabilities practically equaled the present value of the property thatequity would naturally be highly problematical. 

Now, as a matter of morals or of law the only thing that made theproposed reorganization unethical or inequitable was the single triflingfact that those responsible for it were the only ones who knew of theexistence and proximity of the Amphalula vein. When a mining company, arailroad, an oil well or any other enterprise is down and out it is onlyfair that the majority stockholders, who are obliged to protect theirinvestment, should have the right to call upon the rest to come forwardand do their share or else drop out. A minority stockholder cannotappeal to any canon of fair play whereby he should be entitled to sitback and let the majority take all the risks and then claim his share ofthe profits. 

The imponderable element of injustice in the situation consisted in thesuppression of a fact which the directors concealed but concerningwhich, however, they made no representation, false or otherwise. Theywere going to risk half a million dollars of their own money and theywanted the whole gamble for themselves. They sincerely felt that nobodyelse was entitled to take that risk with them. Once they had floatedHorse's Neck they had come to look upon it as their own private affair. The minority had no rights which they, the majority, were bound torespect. The minority were nothing but a lot of piking gamblers, anyway, who bought or sold for a rise or fall of a few cents. They knew nothingof the property and cared less for its real value. They were merelytraders and if they lost they forgot it or tried to. On the other handScherer, Hunn, Greenbaum & Beck were promoters, who contributedsomething to the economic advancement of the nation. 

 * * * * *

"Regarding my hat, which you suggested this morning should be pressed ata cost of fifty cents, " remarked Mr. Tutt to Miss Wiggin when hereturned to the office upon the adjournment of court in the afternoonand replaced that ancient object in its accustomed resting-place--"regarding that precious hat of mine"--he eyed it affectionately--"I can only say that I would as soon send myself to a dry-cleaningestablishment as to permit its profanation by the iron of ahaberdasher. "

Miss Wiggin laughed lightly. 

"That doesn't explain your cryptic statement that it would probably costyou a hundred thousand dollars, " she replied. "Still--"

Mr. Tutt turned suddenly upon his heel and held her with an upraisedhand, the bony wrist of which was encircled, after an intervening spaceof some five inches, by a frayed cuff confined with a black onyx buttonthe size of a quarter. 

"Behold, " he cried in the deep resonant voice that he used in addressingjuries at the climax of a peroration, "the integuments of mypersonality--the ancient habiliments of an honorable profession--thepanoply of the legal warrior. Here, my corslet"--he touched his dingywaistcoat with his left hand; "my greaves"--he brushed the baggy legs ofhis pantaloons; "my halberd"--he raised his old mahogany cane with itsknot of yellow ivory; "my casque"--he indicated his ruffled stove-pipe"Arrayed in these I am Mr. Ephraim Tutt, attorney and counselor atlaw--the senior partner in Tutt & Tutt--a respected member of the barduly accredited and authorized to practise before the Supreme Court ofthe State of New York, the Court of Appeals, the District Court of theUnited States, the Circuit Court of Appeals, the Supreme Court of theUnited States, the Court of Claims--"

"--the Police Court and the Coroner's Court, " concluded Miss Wiggin, making him a mock curtsy. 

"Without these indicia of my profession and my individuality I should belike David without his sling or Samson without his hair. I should bemerely Tutt, a criminal lawyer--one of a multitude--regarded perhaps asa shyster. But in these robes of my high office I am a high priest ofthe law; just as you, my dear girl, are one of its many devoted andworthy priestesses. Can you imagine me going to court in a bowler hat orarguing to the jury in a cutaway coat or bobtail business suit? Can youpicture Ephraim Tutt with his hair cut short or in an Ascot tie, anymore than you can envisage him in riding breeches or wearing lilacs? No!There is but one Mr. Tutt, and these are his only garments. He whosteals my hat may steal trash, but without it I should be like adisembodied spirit unable to return to my earthly dwelling-place. 

"A paltry hundred thousand?

"Nay, without my hat--my helmet!--I should be valueless to myself andeverybody else; so estimate my worth and you can assay the value of myhat. What am I worth in your opinion?"

And then Miss Wiggin, having glanced cautiously if quickly round, made amost astonishing declaration. 

"Just about a million times more than anybody else in the whole world, you old dear!" she whispered and rising upon her toes she kissed hiswrinkled cheek. 

"Dear me! You really mustn't do that!" gasped Mr. Tutt. 

"Well, " she retorted, "you can discharge me if you like. But first sitdown, light a cigar and let me tell you something. "

Mr. Tutt did as he was bid, chuckling. 

"Well, " said Miss Wiggin, "there is such a thing as Horse's NeckExtension after all!"

"Um--you don't say?" he answered, struggling to make his stogy draw. 

"And it has an office with about a hundred other corporations of variouskinds--most of them with names that sound like the zoo--Yellow Wildcat, Jumping Leapfrog, and that sort of thing. It seems Horse's Neck isplayed out and they are going to reorganize it--"

"Who are?" demanded her employer, suddenly sitting erect. 

"Scherer, Hunn, Greenbaum & Beck. "

"The dickens they are!" he ejaculated. "That bunch of pirates? Not if Iknow it!"

"Why not?"

"Reorganize! Reorganize? Reorganization is my middle name!" cried Mr. Tutt. "So Scherer, Hunn, Greenbaum & Beck are going to reorganizesomething, are they? Let 'em try! Not so long as I've got my hat!"

"This is all very enigmatical to me, " replied Miss Wiggin. "But then, I'm only a woman. Aren't they all right? Why shouldn't they reorganize amine if it's exhausted?"

"If it's exhausted why do they want to reorganize it?" he demanded, climbing to his feet. "Let me tell you something, Minerva! All my lifeI've been fighting against tyranny--the tyranny of the law, the tyrannyof power, the tyranny of money. "

He drew fiercely on his stogy, which being desiccated flared like aRoman candle. 

"You don't need to tell me what this plan of reorganization is; becausethey wouldn't propose one unless it was going to benefit them in someway, and the only way it can be made to benefit them is at the expenseof the other stockholders. _Quod erat demonstrandum_. "

Mr. Tutt seemed to have become distended somehow and to have spread overthe entire wall surface of his office like the genie which thefisherman innocently permitted to escape from the bottle. 

"There isn't one reorganization scheme in a hundred that isn't crookedsomewhere. "

"According to that, if a business is unsuccessful it ought to be allowedto go to pot for fear that somebody might make a profit in putting it onits feet, " she countered. "I think you're a violent, irascible, prejudiced old man!"

"All the same, " he retorted, "show me a reorganization scheme and I'llshow you a flimflam! What's this one? Bet you anything you like it's ascrooked as a ram's horn. I don't have to hear about it. Don't want toread the plan. But I'll bust it--higher than Hades. See if I don't!"

He spat the remaining filaments of his stogy from the window and fishedout another. 

"How do we come into it, anyhow?" he demanded. 

"Doctor--I mean Mister Barrows, " replied Miss Wiggin. 

"Oh, yes. Of course. Well, you send for him to come down here and signthe papers. "

"What papers?"

"The complaint and order to show cause. "

"But there isn't any. "

"There will be, all right, by the time he gets here. "

Miss Wiggin looked first puzzled and then pained. 

"I don't understand, " she said rather stiffly. "Do you mean that thefirm of Tutt & Tutt is going to engage in the enterprise of trying tobreak up a plan of reorganization without knowing what it is? Won't youlay us all open to the accusation of being strikers?"

Mr. Tutt's ordinarily brown complexion became slightly tinged withpurple. 

"Let the court decide!" he cried hotly. "You say Scherer, Hunn, Greenbaum & Beck are proposing to reorganize a mining company? You admitwe hold some of the stock? Well--as the natural-born and perennialchampion of the outraged minority--I'm going to attack it, and bust it, and raise heck with it--on general principles. I'm going to throw thatdamned old hat of mine into the ring, my child, and play hell witheverything. "

And with a cluck Mr. Tutt leaned over, produced a dingy bottle wrappedin a coat of many colors and poured himself out a glass of malt extract. 

 * * * * *

When Mr. Greenbaum was summoned to the telephone and informed by Mr. Elderberry in disgruntled tones that somebody had just served upon himan order to show cause why the proposed reorganization of Horse's Neckshould not be set aside and enjoined, he not only became instantlyannoyed but highly excited. 

"What!" he almost screamed. 

"I'll read it to you, if you don't believe it!" said Mr. Elderberry. 

"'United States District Court, Southern District of New York, Edward V. Barrows, Complainant against Horse's Neck Extension Mining Company, Defendant. 

"'Upon the subpoena herein and the complaint duly verified thenineteenth day of February, 1919, and the affidavit of Ephraim Tuttand--'"

"Who in hell is Tutt?" shouted Greenbaum, interrupting. 

"I don't know, " retorted Elderberry; "or Barrows either. "

"Well, skip all the legal rot and get to the point, " directed Greenbaum. 

"'Ordered--ordered, that the defendant, Horse's Neck Extension MiningCompany, show cause at a stated term to be held in and for--'"

"I said to cut the legal rot!"

"Um--um--'why an injunction order should not be issued herein pendingthe trial of this action and enjoining the defendant from disposing ofits assets and for the appointment of a receiver of the assets of thedefendant corporation; and why the complainant should not have suchother, further and different relief as may be equitable. '"

There was a long pause during which Mr. Elderberry was under aconvincing delusion that he could actually hear the thoughts that wererattling round in Mr. Greenbaum's brain. 

"You there?" he inquired presently. 

"Oh, yes, I'm here!" retorted Greenbaum. "This is the devil of a note!Have you spoken to Chippingham?"

"Yes. "

"What does he say?"

"He says it's awkward. They have got hold somewhere of one of our oldcirculars of 1914 in which the property is described as worth about tenmillion dollars--that was during the boom, you remember--and they claimwe are selling it to ourselves for less than one million and that on itsface it's a fraud on the minority stockholders who can't afford to buystock in the new corporation--as of course it would be if the mine wasreally worth ten million or anything like it. "

"Did we really ever get out any circular like that?" demanded Greenbaumin a protesting voice. "I don't recall any. "

"That was when we were making a market for the stock, " Elderberryreminded him. "We couldn't say enough. Honestly, to look at the thingnow is enough to make you sick!"

"Well, it's just a hold-up--that's what it is. Some crook like thisTutt or this Barrows has found out about Amphalula and is bringing astrike suit. You'll have to call a meeting right away. I'd like tostrangle all these shyster lawyers!"

And it never occurred to Mr. Greenbaum that the possible existence ofthe Amphalula vein was what in fact made the order to show causejustifiable--his actual ground of complaint being that anybody should, as he assumed, have found out about it in defiance of his plans. 

 * * * * *

"Yeronner, " said Attendant Mike Horan as he helped Judge Pollak into hisblack bombazine gown in his chambers in the old Post-Office Building onthe morning of the return day, "there's a great bunch out there in thecourt room waitin' for ye, an' no mistake!"

"Indeed!" remarked His Honor. "And who are they? What is the case?"

"Hanged if I know, " answered Mike, snipping a piece of fluff off hisjudgeship's shoulder. "There's a white-bearded old guy, two or threeswell gents with tall hats, Counselor Tutt and an attorney namedChippingham, besides that pretty Miss Wiggin; and they ain't speakin'none to one another, neither. "

"It must be that mining-reorganization case, " answered the judge. "Well, it's time to go in. "

They walked down the dirty marble corridor and entered the court room, while the clerk rapped on the railing. 

"Hear ye! Hear ye! Hear ye! All persons having any business to do withthe District Court of the United States draw near, give your attentionand you will be heard, " he intoned with unctuous authority. 

The "bunch" rose and made obeisance. 

"Good morning, " said the judge pleasantly, sitting down with a sideswitch of the bombazine. "Barrows against the--er--er--Horse's NeckMining Company. Do you represent the complainant, Mr. Tutt?"

"I do, " answered Mr. Tutt with great dignity. "Your Honor, this is amotion for an order to show cause why an injunction _pendente lite_should not issue restraining the sale of the assets, of this corporationto another in fraud of its minority stockholders--and for a receiver. Myclient, an aged man living upon his farm in the northern part of thestate, is the owner of one hundred thousand shares in the Horse's NeckMining Company of the par value of one hundred thousand dollars. He hasowned these securities for many years. They represent his entirecapital. He is a bona fide stockholder--"

"May I be pardoned for interrupting?" sneered Chippingham, springing tohis feet. "I think the court should be informed at the outset that thisman, Barrows, is a notorious ex-convict. "

Judge Pollak raised his eyebrows. 

"This is an outrage!" thundered Mr. Tutt, his form rising ceilingward. "My client--like all of us--has had his misfortunes, but they arehappily a thing of the past; he has the same rights as if he were anarchbishop, the president of a university or--a judge of this honorablecourt. "

"We are sitting in equity, " remarked His Honor. "The question of _bonafides_ is a vital one. _Is_ the complainant an ex-convict?"

"This is the complainant, sir, " cried Mr. Tutt, indicating old Doc, nowfor the first time in his life smartly arrayed in a new checked suit, red tie, patent-leather shoes and suède gloves, and with his beardneatly trimmed. "This is the unfortunate man whose honest savings of alifetime are being wrested from him by an unscrupulous group ofmanipulators who--in my opinion--are more deserving of confinementbehind prison walls than he ever was. "

The gentlemen with the tall hats bit their lips and showed signs ofpoorly suppressed agitation. 

"But _is_ your client an ex-convict, Mr. Tutt?" repeated the judgequietly. 

"Yes, Your Honor, he is. "

"When and how did he become possessed of his stock?"

Mr. Tutt turned to Doc with an air of ineffectually striving to masterhis righteous indignation. 

"Tell the court, Mr. Barrows, " he cried, "in your own words. "

Doc Barrows wonderingly rose. 

"If you please, sir, " he began, "it's quite a long story. You see, I wasthe owner of all the stock of The Chicago Water Front and TerminalCompany--there was a flaw in the title deed which I can explain to youprivately if you wish--and when I was--er--visiting--up on the Hudson--Imet a man there who was the owner of a hundred thousand shares ofHorse's Neck, and we agreed to exchange. "

The judge tried to hide a slight smile. 

"I see, " he replied pleasantly. "And what was the man's name?"

"Oscar Bloom, sir. "

The gentlemen with the tall hats exchanged agitated glances. 

"Do you know how he got his stock?"

"No, sir. "

"That is all. Go on, Mr. Tutt. "

Doc sat down while Mr. Tutt again unhooked his lank form. 

"To resume where I was interrupted, Your Honor, the directorscontrolling a majority of the stock of this corporation, the capital ofwhich is ten millions of dollars, have made a contract to sell all ofits properties to another corporation, organized by themselves andcapitalized for one million, for the sum of one hundred and twenty-fivethousand dollars!

"It is true that in their plan of reorganization they offer to permitany stockholder in the old corporation to subscribe for stock in the newat par--thus at first glance placing all upon what seems to be anequality; but any stockholder who does not see fit to subscribe orcannot afford to do so is wiped out, for there will be nothing left inthe way of assets in Horse's Neck after the transfer is completed. 

"Now these gentlemen have underwritten the stock in the new LallapaloosaCompany at fifty cents upon the dollar, and if this nefarious deal ispermitted to go through they will thus acquire a property worth tenmillions for five hundred thousand dollars, of which they will use onlyone hundred and twenty-five thousand in payment of old indebtedness. Ineffect, they confiscate the equity of all the minority stockholders inHorse's Neck who cannot afford to subscribe for stock in Lallapaloosa. "He turned upon the uncomfortable tall hats with an arraigning eye. 

"In the criminal courts, Your Honor, such a conspiracy would beproperly described as grand larceny; in Wall Street perchance it may beviewed as high finance. But so long as there are courts of equity such awrong upon a helpless stockholder will not go unrebuked. Have I mademyself clear to Your Honor?"

Judge Pollak looked interested. He was a man famous for his protectionof helpless minorities and his court had been selected by Mr. Tutt onthis account. 

"If the facts are as you state them, Mr. Tutt, " he answered seriously, "the plan on its face would seem to be inequitable. If the property isworth ten million the consideration is palpably inadequate. Yourclient's equity, worth on that basis at least one hundred thousanddollars, would be entirely destroyed without any redress. "

"Your Honor, " burst out Mr. Chippingham, whose bald head had beenbobbing about in excited contiguity with the tall hats, "this is a mostmisleading statement. The assets of Horse's Neck aren't worth a hundredthousand dollars. And if any of the minority don't want to come into thereorganization--and I assure Your Honor that we would welcome theirparticipation--they can have their equity appraised under the laws ofDelaware and the finding becomes a lien on the assets even after theyhave been transferred. "

"What relief does that give a man like Mr. Barrows?" shouted Mr. Tutt. "He can't afford to go down to Wilmington with a carload of books and acorps of experts to prove the value of Horse's Neck. It would cost himmore than his stock is worth!"

"That remedy is not exclusive, in any event, " declared the judge. "Ifthis complainant is going to be defrauded I will enjoin this contract_pendente lite_ and appoint a receiver. "

"Your Honor!" protested Chippingham in great agony. "It is not the factthat this mine is worth ten million. It isn't worth at the most morethan one hundred thousand. It is, full of water, the machinery is rustedand falling to pieces and the workings are practically exhausted. Theonly way to rehabilitate this property is for everybody to come in andput up enough money by subscribing to the stock of the new corporationto pump it out, buy new engines and start producing again. Is it fair tothe majority, who are willing to go on, put up more money, and make anattempt to save the property, to have this complainant--an ex-convictwho never paid a cent for his stock, dug up from heaven knowswhere--enjoin their contract and throw the corporation into the hands ofa receiver? This is nothing but a strike suit. I repeat--a strike suit!"

He glowered breathless at his adversary. 

"Oh! Oh!" groaned Mr. Tutt in horrified tones. 

"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" expostulated the court. "This will not do!"

"I beg pardon--of the court, " stammered Mr. Chippingham. 

"Your Honor, " mourned Mr. Tutt, "I have practised here for thirty yearsand this is the first time I have ever been insulted in open court. Astrike suit? I hold in my hand"--he waved it threateningly at the tallhats--"a circular issued by these directors less than five years ago, inwhich they give the itemized value of this property as ten milliondollars. Shortly after that circular was issued the stock sold in theopen market at one dollar and ninety cents a share. In two years it sankto ten cents a share. Will a little water, a little rust, a littletrouble with labor reduce the value of a great property like this fromten millions of dollars to one hundred thousand--one per cent of itsappraised value? Either"--he fixed Chippingham with an exultant andterrifying glance--"they were lying then or they are lying now!"

"Let me look at that circular, " directed Judge Pollak. He took it fromMr. Tutt's eager hand, glanced through it and turned sharply upon thequaking Chippingham. 

"How long have you been attorney for Scherer, Hunn, Greenbaum & Beck?"

"Twelve years, Your Honor. "

"Who is Wilson W. Elderberry?"

"He is the secretary of the Horse's Neck Extension, Your Honor. "

"Is he in court?"

From a distant corner Mr. Elderberry bashfully rose. 

"Come here!" ordered the court. And the Pooh-Bah of theScherer-Hunn-Greenbaum-Beck enterprises came cringing to the bar. 

"Did you sign this circular in 1914?" demanded Judge Pollak. 

"Yes, Your Honor. "

"Were the statements contained in it true?"

Elderberry squirmed. 

"Ye-es, Your Honor. That is--they were to the best of my knowledge andbelief. I was, of course, obliged to take what information was athand--and--er--and--"

"Did you sign the other circular, issued last month, to the effect thatthe mine was practically valueless?"

"Yes, sir. " Elderberry studiously examined the moldings on the corniceof the judge's canopy. 

"Um!" remarked the court significantly. 

There was a flurry among the tall hats. Then Mr. Greenbaum sprang to hisfeet. 

"If you please, Your Honor, " he announced, staccato, "we entirelydisavow Mr. Elderberry's circular of 1914. It was issued without ourknowledge or authority. It is no evidence that the mine was worth tenmillions or any other amount at that time. "

"Oh! Oh!" choked Mr. Tutt, while Miss Wiggin giggled delightedly intoher brief case. 

Judge Pollak bent upon Mr. Greenbaum a withering glance. 

"Did your firm sell any of its holdings in Horse's Neck after theissuance of that circular?"

Greenbaum hesitated. He would have liked to wring that judge's neck. 

"Why--how do I know? We may have. "

"_Did_ you?"

"Say 'yes, ' for God's sake, " hissed Chippingham "or you'll land in thepen!"

"I am informed that we did, " answered Greenbaum defiantly. "That is, Idon't _say_ we did. Very likely we did. Our books would show. But Irepeat--we disavow this circular and we deny any responsibility for thisman, Elderberry. "

This man, Elderberry, who for twelve long years had writhed under thebiting lash of his employer's tongue, hating him with a hatred knownonly to those in subordinate positions who are bribed to suffer the"whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud man'scontumely, " quivered and saw red. He was going to be made the goat!They expected him to take all the responsibility and give them a cleanslate! The nerve of it! To hell with them! Suddenly he began to cry, shockingly, with deep stertorous suspirations. 

"No--you won't!" he hiccuped. "You shan't lay the blame on me! I'll tellthe truth, I will! I won't stand for it! Your Honor, they want toreorganize Horse's Neck because they think there's a vein in Amphalulathat crosses one of the old workings and that it'll make the propertyworth millions and millions. "

Utter silence descended upon the court room--silence broken only by theslow ticktack of the self-winding clock on the rear wall and the whineof the electric cars on Park Row. One of the tall hats crept quietly tothe door and vanished. The others sat like images. 

Then the court said very quietly: "I will adjourn this matter for oneweek. I need not point out that what has occurred has a very graveinterpretation. Adjourn court!"

 * * * * *

Old Doc Barrows, the two Tutts and Miss Wiggin were sitting in Mr. Tutt's office an hour later when Willie announced that Mr. TobiasGreenbaum was outside and would like an interview. 

"Send him in!" directed Mr. Tutt, winking at Miss Wiggin. 

Mr. Greenbaum entered, frowning and without salutation, while Docpartially rose, moved by the acquired instinct of disciplinarypoliteness, then changed his mind and sat down again. 

"See here, " snarled Greenbaum. "You sure have made a most awful hash ofthis business. I don't want to argue about it. We could go ahead andbeat you, but Pollak is prejudiced and will probably give you yourinjunction and appoint a receiver. If he does, that will knock the wholeproperty higher than a kite. Nobody would ever buy stock in it or evenfinance it. Now how much do you want to call off your suit?"

"Have a stogy?" asked Mr. Tutt politely. 

"Nope. "

"We want exactly one hundred thousand dollars. "

Greenbaum laughed derisively. 

"A hundred thousand fiddlesticks! This old jailbird swindled anothercrook, Bloom--"

"Oh, Bloom was a crook too, was he?" chuckled Mr. Tutt. "He worked foryour firm, didn't he?"

"That's nothing to do with it!" retorted Greenbaum angrily. "Yourswindling client traded some bum stock in a fake corporation for Bloom'sstock, which he received for bona fide services--"

"Like Elderberry's?" inquired Tutt innocently. 

"Your man never paid a cent for his holdings. That alone would throwhim out of court. The mine isn't worth a cent without the Amphalulavein. We're taking a big chance. You've got us down and we've got topay; but we'll pay only ten thousand dollars--that's final. "

"I ain't any more of a swindler than you be!" said Doc with plaintiveindignation. 

"What do you wish to do, Mr. Barrows?" asked Mr. Tutt, turning to himdeferentially. 

"I leave it entirely to you, Mr. Tutt. It's your stock; I gave it all toyou months ago. "

"Then, " answered Mr. Tutt with fine scorn, "I shall tell this miserablecheating rogue and rascal either to pay you a hundred thousand dollarsor go to hell. "

Mr. Tobias Greenbaum clenched his fists and cast a black glance upon thegroup. 

"You can wreck this corporation if you choose, you bunch of dirtyblackmailers, but you'll get not a cent more than ten thousand. For thelast time, will you take it or not?"

Mr. Tutt rose and pointed toward the door. 

"Kindly remove yourself before I call the police, " he said coldly. "Iadvise the firm of Scherer, Hunn, Greenbaum & Beck to retain criminalcounsel. Your ten thousand may come in handy for that purpose. "

Mr. Tobias Greenbaum went. 

"And now, Miss Wiggin, how about a cup of tea?" said Mr. Tutt. 

The firm of Tutt & Tutt claimed to be the only law firm in the city ofNew York which still maintained the historic English custom of havingtea at five o'clock. Whether the claim had any foundation or not the teawas none the less an institution, undoubtedly generating a friendly, sociable atmosphere throughout the office; and now Willie pulled asidethe screen in the corner and disclosed the gate-leg table over whichMiss Wiggin exercised her daily prerogative. Soon the room was filledwith the comfortable odor of Pekoe, of muffins toasted upon an electricheater, of cigarettes and stogies. Yet there was, and had been eversince their conversation about the hat, a certain restraint between MissWiggin and Mr. Tutt, rising presumably out of her suggestion that hiscourse savored of blackmail, however justified it had afterward turnedout to be. 

"My, isn't this nice!" murmured Doc, trying unsuccessfully to eat amuffin, drink his tea and do justice to a stogy at the same time. "It'sso homy now, isn't it?"

"Doc, " answered Mr. Tutt, "did you really want that ten thousand?"

"Me?" repeated Doc vaguely. "Why, I told you I gave that stock to youlong ago. It isn't mine any longer. Besides, I don't want any money. I'm perfectly happy as I am. "

Mr. Tutt laughed genially. 

"Oh, well, " he said, "it's no matter who owns it. Elderberry justtelephoned me that he had received a telegram from the Amphalula thatthe vein had definitely run out. It's all over--including the shouting. "

"Elderberry telephone you?" queried Miss Wiggin in astonishment. 

"Yes, Elderberry. You see, he's done, he says, with Scherer, Hunn, Greenbaum & Beck. Wants to turn state's evidence and put 'em all injail. I've said I'd help him. "

"Then why didn't you take the ten thousand and call it quits while thegetting was good?" demanded his partner icily. 

"Because I knew I'd never get the ten anyway, " replied Mr. Tutt. "Greenbaum would have learned about the vein on his return to theoffice. "

"Well, I must be getting along back to Pottsville!" mumbled Doc. "Thishas been a very pleasant trip--very pleasant; and quite--quite--exciting. I--"

"What I'd like to know, Mr. Tutt, " interrupted Miss Wiggin, "is how youjustify your course in this matter. When you attempted to block thisproposed reorganization you knew nothing about the Elderberry circularof 1914 valuing the property at ten million, or of the Amphalula vein. On its face you were attempting to wreck a perfectly honest piece offinanciering, and unless it was a strike suit--which I hope and pray itwasn't--"

"Strike suit!" protested Mr. Tutt with a slight twinkle in his eye. "Howcan you suggest such a thing! Didn't the events demonstrate the wisdomof my judgment?"

"But you didn't know what was going to happen when you began your suit!"she argued firmly. "I hate to say it, but I should think that ifeverything had not come out just as it has your motives might easilyhave been misconstrued. "

"It was a matter of principle with me, my dear, " declared Mr. Tuttsolemnly. "Just to show there's no ill feeling, won't you give meanother cup of tea?"