Utter silence descended upon the court room—­silence broken only by the slow ticktack of the self-winding clock on the rear wall and the whine of the electric cars on Park Row.  One of the tall hats crept quietly to the door and vanished.  The others sat like images.

Then the court said very quietly:  “I will adjourn this matter for one week.  I need not point out that what has occurred has a very grave interpretation.  Adjourn court!”

* * * * *

Old Doc Barrows, the two Tutts and Miss Wiggin were sitting in Mr. Tutt’s office an hour later when Willie announced that Mr. Tobias Greenbaum was outside and would like an interview.

“Send him in!” directed Mr. Tutt, winking at Miss Wiggin.

Mr. Greenbaum entered, frowning and without salutation, while Doc partially rose, moved by the acquired instinct of disciplinary politeness, then changed his mind and sat down again.

“See here,” snarled Greenbaum.  “You sure have made a most awful hash of this business.  I don’t want to argue about it.  We could go ahead and beat you, but Pollak is prejudiced and will probably give you your injunction and appoint a receiver.  If he does, that will knock the whole property higher than a kite.  Nobody would ever buy stock in it or even finance it.  Now how much do you want to call off your suit?”

“Have a stogy?” asked Mr. Tutt politely.

“Nope.”

“We want exactly one hundred thousand dollars.”

Greenbaum laughed derisively.

“A hundred thousand fiddlesticks!  This old jailbird swindled another crook, Bloom—­”

“Oh, Bloom was a crook too, was he?” chuckled Mr. Tutt.  “He worked for your firm, didn’t he?”

“That’s nothing to do with it!” retorted Greenbaum angrily.  “Your swindling client traded some bum stock in a fake corporation for Bloom’s stock, which he received for bona fide services—­”

“Like Elderberry’s?” inquired Tutt innocently.

“Your man never paid a cent for his holdings.  That alone would throw him out of court.  The mine isn’t worth a cent without the Amphalula vein.  We’re taking a big chance.  You’ve got us down and we’ve got to pay; but we’ll pay only ten thousand dollars—­that’s final.”

“I ain’t any more of a swindler than you be!” said Doc with plaintive indignation.

“What do you wish to do, Mr. Barrows?” asked Mr. Tutt, turning to him deferentially.

“I leave it entirely to you, Mr. Tutt.  It’s your stock; I gave it all to you months ago.”

“Then,” answered Mr. Tutt with fine scorn, “I shall tell this miserable cheating rogue and rascal either to pay you a hundred thousand dollars or go to hell.”

Mr. Tobias Greenbaum clenched his fists and cast a black glance upon the group.

“You can wreck this corporation if you choose, you bunch of dirty blackmailers, but you’ll get not a cent more than ten thousand.  For the last time, will you take it or not?”