Mr. Brown hesitated.

“I’ve heard of some such organization,” he admitted.  “But I never heard it was called a Horse Leeches’ Union.”

“Didn’t one of its officers come to you and say that unless something was done to reduce competition they’d have to go out of business—­owing to the decrease in horses in New York?”

“I don’t remember,” answered Brown slowly.  “One of ’em may have said something of the sort to me.  But that’s my business!”

“Yes!” roared Mr. Tutt suddenly.  “It’s your business to pretend you’re a doctor when you’re not, and you walk the streets a free man; and you want to send my client to Sing Sing for the same offense!  That is all!  I am done with you!  Get down off the stand!  Do not let me detain you from the practise of your unlicensed profession!”

“Mr. Tutt!” again admonished His Honor as the lawyer threw himself angrily into his chair.  “This really won’t do at all!”

“I beg Your Honor’s pardon—­a thousand times!” said Mr. Tutt in tones so humble and sincere that he almost made the angel-faced baboon believe him.

I should like to go on and describe the whole course of Danny Lowry’s trial item by item, witness by witness, and tell what Mr. Tutt did to each.  But I can’t; there isn’t room.  I can only dwell upon the tactics of Mr. Tutt long enough to state that at the conclusion of the case against Daniel Lowry, wherein it was clearly, definitely and convincingly established that Danny had been practising veterinary medicine for a long time without the faintest legal right, the lawyer rose and declared emphatically to the jury that his client was absolutely, totally and unquestionably innocent, as they would see by giving proper attention to the evidence he would produce—­so that he would not take up any more of their valuable time in talk.

And having made this opening statement with all the earnestness and solemnity of which he was capable Mr. Tutt called to prove the defendant’s good reputation, first, Father Plunkett, the priest to whom Danny made his monthly confession and who told the jury that he knew no better man in all his parish; second, Mulqueen, who described Danny’s love of horses, his knowledge of them, his mysterious intuition concerning their hidden ailments, which, being as they could not speak, it was given to few to know, and how night after night he would sit up with a sick or dying animal to relieve its pain without thought of himself or of any earthly reward; then, man after man and woman after woman from the neighborhood of West Twenty-third Street who gave Danny the best of characters, including policemen, firemen, delicatessens, hotel keepers, and Salvatore, the proprietor of the night lunch frequented by Mr. Tutt.