Mr. Tutt rose and pointed toward the door.

“Kindly remove yourself before I call the police,” he said coldly.  “I advise the firm of Scherer, Hunn, Greenbaum & Beck to retain criminal counsel.  Your ten thousand may come in handy for that purpose.”

Mr. Tobias Greenbaum went.

“And now, Miss Wiggin, how about a cup of tea?” said Mr. Tutt.

The firm of Tutt & Tutt claimed to be the only law firm in the city of New York which still maintained the historic English custom of having tea at five o’clock.  Whether the claim had any foundation or not the tea was none the less an institution, undoubtedly generating a friendly, sociable atmosphere throughout the office; and now Willie pulled aside the screen in the corner and disclosed the gate-leg table over which Miss Wiggin exercised her daily prerogative.  Soon the room was filled with the comfortable odor of Pekoe, of muffins toasted upon an electric heater, of cigarettes and stogies.  Yet there was, and had been ever since their conversation about the hat, a certain restraint between Miss Wiggin and Mr. Tutt, rising presumably out of her suggestion that his course savored of blackmail, however justified it had afterward turned out to be.

“My, isn’t this nice!” murmured Doc, trying unsuccessfully to eat a muffin, drink his tea and do justice to a stogy at the same time.  “It’s so homy now, isn’t it?”

“Doc,” answered Mr. Tutt, “did you really want that ten thousand?”

“Me?” repeated Doc vaguely.  “Why, I told you I gave that stock to you long ago.  It isn’t mine any longer.  Besides, I don’t want any money.  I’m perfectly happy as I am.”

Mr. Tutt laughed genially.

“Oh, well,” he said, “it’s no matter who owns it.  Elderberry just telephoned me that he had received a telegram from the Amphalula that the vein had definitely run out.  It’s all over—­including the shouting.”

“Elderberry telephone you?” queried Miss Wiggin in astonishment.

“Yes, Elderberry.  You see, he’s done, he says, with Scherer, Hunn, Greenbaum & Beck.  Wants to turn state’s evidence and put ’em all in jail.  I’ve said I’d help him.”

“Then why didn’t you take the ten thousand and call it quits while the getting was good?” demanded his partner icily.

“Because I knew I’d never get the ten anyway,” replied Mr. Tutt.  “Greenbaum would have learned about the vein on his return to the office.”

“Well, I must be getting along back to Pottsville!” mumbled Doc.  “This has been a very pleasant trip—­very pleasant; and quite—­quite—­exciting.  I—­”

“What I’d like to know, Mr. Tutt,” interrupted Miss Wiggin, “is how you justify your course in this matter.  When you attempted to block this proposed reorganization you knew nothing about the Elderberry circular of 1914 valuing the property at ten million, or of the Amphalula vein.  On its face you were attempting to wreck a perfectly honest piece of financiering, and unless it was a strike suit—­which I hope and pray it wasn’t—­”