“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 arrested and charged with being a burglar, had you made any personal inquiry as to 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’ve heard about perjury—­but the police attended to everything for me.”

“Aha!” cried Mr. Tutt, snorting angrily like the war horse depicted in the 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.  “Just like the postmen.”

Mr. Tutt looked significantly at the jury, while a titter ran round the court room.

“Well,” he continued with patient irony, “what we wish to know is whether these friends of yours whom you so kindly remember at Christmas dragged the helpless man away from your house, threw him into jail and charged him with burglary by your authority?”

“I didn’t think anything about it,” asserted Hepplewhite “Really I didn’t.  I assumed that they knew what to do under such circumstances.  I didn’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 is acquitted—­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 to turn for help or sympathy.  The whole world seemed to have risen against him.  He opened his mouth to reply, but the words would not come.  He looked appealingly at the judge, but the judge coldly ignored him.  The whole room seemed crowded with a multitude of leering eyes.  Why had God made him a rich man?  Why was he compelled to suffer those terrible indignities?  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 fervent expostulation.  “I have nothing against him.  I don’t believe he intended to do any wrong.  And I hope the jury will acquit him!”

“Oho!” whistled Mr. Tutt exultantly, while O’Brien gazed at Hepplewhite in stupefaction. Was this a man?

“So you admit that the charge against my client is without foundation?” insisted Mr. Tutt.