Читать книгу Tut! Tut! Mr. Tutt - Arthur Train - Страница 6

Billy the Bloodhound strutted into the inclosure in front of the dais, bowed to the judge and preened himself before the gaping crowd—the little czar, the Pooh-Bah, the high-cockalorum of the Sessions—as the old lawyer was in the act of consulting his new client. Something about Mr. Tutt inspired Paddy Mooney with instant confidence, and while the court waited he hastily explained to him the circumstances surrounding his arrest. He had no witnesses, he said; he was being framed and he wanted to be tried at once. O’Brien swaggered to the bar.

“Well,” he inquired roughly, “how do you plead? What are you going to do? You can’t talk there forever.”

Mr. Tutt smiled with the old-time courtesy he invoked when in his most dangerous mood.

“I am sorry to have unduly delayed the proceedings, Mr. O’Brien. We plead not guilty, and we ask an immediate trial.”

It was at this moment that the Devil, in the shape of Delaney the cop, leaned over the rail and plucked the Bloodhound’s sleeve.

“S-st, Mr. O’Brien! Put the screws on him and he’ll plead guilty. We’ve got him cold. Here’s the gun I took off him—loaded.”

He shoved the revolver into O’Brien’s hand, and the latter, always willing to oblige, slipped it into his pocket.

“Has he got a record?” he asked sideways.

“Sure! Just out of stir. Caught him with a valise full of stuff he took out of a cigar store. He’s an old-timer—Gas House Gang. If he won’t plead, stick him right on trial. It’s a pipe! A conviction sure!”

The Bloodhound nodded.

“Leave him to me! Here, you!”—addressing Mooney and Mr. Tutt together and as one—“plead guilty and I’ll give you attempted grand in the second.”

Mr. Tutt gravely shook his head.

“No,” he replied. “I cannot let an innocent man falsely admit under any conditions that he is guilty.”

O’Brien’s face hardened.

“Suit yourself!” he snapped back. “If he doesn’t he’ll get the limit.”

“Not unless he’s convicted!” murmured Mr. Tutt.

“Oh!” sneered his adversary. “You think you can get him off, do you? Don’t fool yourself! It’s a dead open-and-shut case. Will you or won’t you? If you won’t he’ll be on his way up the river by two o’clock.”

Mr. Tutt’s blood boiled and tingled.

“Mister District Attorney,” he said sternly, “may I ask if you have examined into the merits of this case?”

“I’ve seen the only witness there is!” retorted O’Brien. “This man is an ex-convict. His picture is in the gallery. So are his thumb tracks. He’s guilty all right, all right! He’s got no more chance than an icicle in Hades.”

“Have you talked to him? Have you heard his story? Have you questioned the officer who arrested him?” went on the old lawyer.

“I have not! And I don’t intend to!” answered O’Brien shortly. “He can tell his story on the stand—and if there’s anything to it the jury can acquit him.”

“What chance has he got to have the jury believe him if you bring out the fact that he has been in prison?” asked Mr. Tutt. “It will hopelessly prejudice them against him.”

“That’s why he’d better plead guilty!” grinned the Bloodhound.

“And you call that justice!” cried Mr. Tutt, his lips quivering. “Well, put him on trial—and be damned to you!”

“I will!” laughed O’Brien. “I’ll put him on trial in ten minutes—as soon as the pleas are over. And then”—he bent over past Mooney and leered into Mr. Tutt’s face—“and then be damned to you!”

As the court officer marched Mooney back to the pen a hand pulled Mr. Tutt by the coat tails. He turned and looked into the homely face of the girl in the shawl.

“Oh, sir,” she begged, “for God’s sake don’t let them frame him! That brute Delaney was a witness against him on his first trial. He’s Morrison’s man. They’ve made up their minds to railroad him. Oh, sir! Save him! He’s a brave, good lad that never harmed anyone. I know you’re a big lawyer and don’t bother with the likes of us, but”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“I’ve saved ninety dollars, and it’s yours if you get him off!”

Mr. Tutt patted her arm.

“All right! All right!” he said soothingly. “I’ll do my best, but not for your money! What’s your name, my girl?”

“Annie Murphy.”

“Do you know the man Paddy worked for before he was sent up?”

“Sure!”

“Go bring him here.”

The girl hurried away and Mr. Tutt walked back to his seat.

“If I ever get that fellow to rights,” he muttered, eying O’Brien as he swaggered at the rail, “may God have mercy on his soul!”