Tutt and Mr. Tutt
"That's it!" repeated Tutt as he lit his stogy, which flared up like a burning bush, the cub of a Willie having foraged successfully in the outer office for a match. "He's willing to be hanged or damned or anything else just for the sake of putting a bullet through the other fellow!"
"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've got to defend Angelo for shooting Tomasso you might as well give me a short scenario of the melodrama. By the way, are we retained or assigned by the court?"
"Assigned," chirped Tutt.
"So that all we'll get out of it is about enough to keep me in stogies for a couple of months!"
"And—if he's convicted, as of course he will be—a good chance of losing our reputation as successful trial counsel. Why not beg off?"
"Let me hear the story first," answered Mr. Tutt. "Angelo sounds like a good sport. I have a mild affection for him already."
He reached into the lower compartment of his desk and lifted out a tumbler and a bottle of malt extract, which he placed carefully at his elbow. Then he leaned back again expectantly.
"It is a simple and naive story," began Tutt,
8
