Indeed there was a man named Tutt, of whom Mr. Hepplewhite had never before heard, who publicly declared that he, Tutt, would show him, Hepplewhite, up for what he was and make him pay with his body and his blood, to say nothing of his money, for what he had done and caused to be done.  And so Mr. Hepplewhite became even more agitated, until he dreamed of this Tutt as an enormous bird like the fabled roc, with a malignant face and a huge hooked beak that some day would nip him in the abdomen and fly, croaking, away with him.  Mrs. Witherspoon had returned to Aiken, and after the first flood of commiserations from his friends on Lists Numbers One, Two, Three and Four he felt neglected, lonely and rather fearful.

And then one morning something happened that upset his equanimity entirely.  He had just started out for a walk in the park when a flashy person who looked like an actor walked impudently up to him and handed him a piece of paper in which was wrapped a silver half dollar.  In a word Mr. Hepplewhite was subpoenaed and the nervous excitement attendant upon that operation nearly caused his collapse.  For he was thereby commanded to appear before the Court of General Sessions of the Peace upon the following Monday at ten a.m. as a witness in a criminal action prosecuted 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 of Tutt.  He returned immediately to the house and telephoned for Mr. Edgerton, his lawyer, who at once jumped into a taxi on the corner of Wall 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 to do with the arrest of this man Schmidt.  The police did everything.  And now 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 would encourage Mr. Hepplewhite.

“I suppose you’ll have to go to court.  You can’t help that, you know, if you’ve been subpoenaed.  But you can’t testify to anything that I can see.  It’s just a formality.”

“Formality!” groaned his client.  “Well, I supposed the arrest was just a formality.”

Mr. Edgerton smiled again rather unconvincingly.

“Well, you see, you can’t always tell what will happen when you once start something,” he began.

“But I didn’t start anything,” answered Mr. Hepplewhite.  “I had nothing to 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 to tell you that he has a paper he wishes to serve on you—­and would you mind saving him the trouble of waiting for you to go out?”

“Another!” gagged Mr. Hepplewhite.

“Yes, sir!  Thank you, sir,” stammered Bibby.