“He isn’t,” assented his partner.  “It was Babson and he hates Italians.  Moreover, he stated in open court that he proposed to try the case himself next Monday and that we must be ready without fail.”

“So Babson did that to us!” growled Mr. Tutt.  “Just like him.  He’ll pack the jury and charge our innocent Angelo into the middle of hades.”

“And O’Brien is the assistant district attorney in charge of the prosecution,” mildly added Tutt.  “But what can we do?  We’re assigned, we’ve got a guilty client, and we’ve got to defend him.”

“Have you set Bonnie Doon looking up witnesses?” asked Mr. Tutt.  “I thought I saw him outside during the forenoon.”

“Yes,” replied Tutt.  “But Bonnie says it’s the toughest case he ever had to handle in which to find any witnesses for the defense.  There aren’t any.  Besides, the girl bought the gun and gave it to Angelo the same day.”

“How do you know that?” demanded Mr. Tutt, frowning.

“Because she told me so herself,” said Tutt.  “She’s outside if you want to see her.”

“I might as well give her what you call ‘the once over,’” replied the senior partner.

Tutt retired and presently returned half leading, half pushing a shrinking young Italian woman, shabbily dressed but with the features of one of Raphael’s madonnas.  She wore no hat and her hands and finger nails were far from clean, but from the folds of her black shawl her neck rose like a column of slightly discolored Carrara marble, upon which her head with its coils of heavy hair was poised with the grace of a sulky empress.

“Come in, my child, and sit down,” said Mr. Tutt kindly.  “No, not in that one; in that one.”  He indicated the chair previously occupied by his junior.  “You can leave us, Tutt.  I want to talk to this young lady alone.”

The girl sat sullenly with averted face, showing in her attitude her instinctive feeling that all officers of the law, no matter upon which side they were supposed to be, were one and all engaged in a mysterious conspiracy of which she and her unfortunate Angelo were the victims.  A few words from the old lawyer and she began to feel more confidence, however.  No one, in fact, could help but realize at first glance Mr. Tutt’s warmth of heart.  The lines of his sunken cheeks if left to themselves automatically tended to draw together into a whimsical smile, and it required a positive act of will upon his part to adopt the stern and relentless look with which he was wont to glower down upon some unfortunate witness in cross-examination.