Tutt time to think
it over and decide upon his terms. Suppose, then, that they should
return at noon? With this understanding, accordingly, they departed.
"There's no point in skinning a Chink just because he is a Chink," said
the 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 five
altogether 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 individual
Chink to cough up on his own account, but this is a cooeperative 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 muscle
of his face.
"Well, you know what I mean!" said Tutt.
"He wasn't there," insisted Mr. Tutt. "He was way over in Fulton Market
buying a terrapin."
"That is what, if I were district attorney, I should call a Mock Hen
with a mockturtle defense!" grunted Tutt.
Mr. Tutt chuckled.
"I shall have to get that off myself at the beginning of the case, or it
might convict him," he remarked. "But he wasn't there--unless the jury
find that he was."
"In which case he will--or shall--have been there--whatever the verb
is," agreed Tutt.
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