“Never turn down a case,” was Tutt’s motto.

“Our duty as sworn officers of the judicial branch of the Government renders it incumbent upon us to perform whatever services our clients’ exigencies demand,” was Mr. Tutt’s way of putting it.

In the end it amounted to exactly the same thing.  As a result, in addition to their own clientele, other members of the bar who found themselves encumbered with matters which for one reason or another they preferred not to handle formed the habit of turning them over to Tutt & Tutt.  A never-ending stream of peculiar cases flowed through the office, each leaving behind it some residuum of golden dust, however small.  The stately or, as an unkind observer might have put it, the ramshackly form of the senior partner was a constant figure in all the courts, from that of the coroner on the one hand to the appellate tribunals upon the other.  It was immaterial to him what the case was about—­whether it dealt with the “next eventual estate” or the damages for a dog bite—­so long as he was paid and Tutt prepared it.  Hence Tutt & Tutt prospered.  And as the law, like any other profession requires jacks-of-all-trades, the firm acquired a certain peculiar professional standing of its own, and enjoyed the good will of the bar as a whole.

They had the reputation of being sound lawyers if not overafflicted with a sense of professional dignity, whose word was better than their bond, yet who, faithful to their clients’ interests knew no mercy and gave no quarter.  They took and pressed cases which other lawyers dared not touch lest they should be defiled—­and nobody seemed to think any the less of them for so doing.  They raised points that made the refinements of the ancient schoolmen seem blunt in comparison.  No respecters of persons, they harried the rich and taunted the powerful, and would have as soon jailed a bishop or a judge as a pickpocket if he deserved it.  Between them they knew more kinds of law than most of their professional brethren, and as Mr. Tutt was a bookworm and a seeker after legal and other lore their dusty old library was full of hidden treasures, which on frequent occasions were unearthed to entertain the jury or delight the bench.  They were loyal friends, fearsome enemies, high chargers, and maintained their unique position in spite of the fact that at one time or another they had run close to the shadowy line which divides the ethical from that which is not.  Yet Mr. Tutt had brought disbarment proceedings against many lawyers in his time and—­what is more—­had them disbarred.

“Leave old Tutt alone,” was held sage advice, and when other lawyers desired to entertain the judiciary they were apt to invite Mr. Tutt to be of the party.  And Tutt gloried in the glories of Mr. Tutt.

“That’s it!” repeated Tutt as he lit his stogy, which flared up like a burning bush, the cub of a Willie having foraged successfully in the outer office for a match.  “He’s willing to be hanged or damned or anything else just for the sake of putting a bullet through the other fellow!”