“I dunno.  Just go back.”

Mr. Tutt sighed.  The jury gave signs of impatience.

“Look here!” he demanded.  “How many times have you gone over your story with the district attorney?”

“Nevvair.”

“What?”

“I nevvair see heem.”

“Never see whom?”

“Dees man—­judge.”

“I’m not talking about the judge.”

“I nevvair see no one.”

“Didn’t you tell the Grand Jury that Hassoun stabbed Babu with a long knife?”

“I dunno heem!”

“Who?”

“Gran’ Jury.”

“Didn’t you go into a big room and put your hand on a book and swear?”

“I no swear—­ever!”

“And tell what you saw?”

“I tell what I saw.”

“What did you see?”

“I saw Hassoun break heem hees neck.”

“Didn’t you say first that Hassoun stabbed Babu?”

“No—­nevvair!”

“Then didn’t you come back and say he shot him?”

“No—­nevvair!”

“And finally, didn’t you say he strangled him—­after you had heard that the coroner’s physician had decided that that was how he was killed?”

“Yes—­he break heem hees neck.”

Mr. Kahoots was apparently very much bored, but he was not bored in quite the same way as the judge, who, suddenly rousing himself, asked Mr. Tutt if he had any basis for asking such questions.

“Why, certainly,” answered the old lawyer quietly.  “I shall prove that this witness made three absolutely contradictory statements before the Grand Jury.”

“Is that so, Mister District Attorney?”

“I don’t know,” replied Pepperill faintly.  “I had nothing to do with the proceedings before the Grand Jury.”

Judge Wetherell frowned.

“It would seem to me,” he began, “as if a proper preparation of the case would have involved some slight attention to—­Well, never mind!  Proceed, Mr. Tutt.”

“Kahoots!” cried the lawyer sternly.  “Isn’t it a fact that you have been convicted of crime yourself?”

The proprietor of the merry-go-round drew himself up indignantly.

“Me?  No!”

“Weren’t you convicted of assault on a man named Rafoul Rabyaz?”

“Me?  Look here, sir!  I tell you ’bout dat!  This Rafoul Rabyaz he my partner, see, in pool, billiard and cigar business on Greenwich Street.  This long time ago.  Years ago.  We split up.  I sell heem my shares, see.  I open next door—­pool table, cafe and all.  But I not get full half the stock.  I not get the tablecloth, see.  I was of the tablecloth you know short.  It don’t be there.  I go back there that time.  I see heem.  I say, ‘We don’t count those tablecloth.’  He say, ‘Yes.’  I say,’No.’  He say,’Yes.’  I say ‘No.’  He say, ‘Yes.’  I say, ’No’—­”

“For heaven’s sake,” exclaimed Judge Wetherell, “don’t say that again!”

“Yes, sair,” agreed the showman.  “All right.  I say, ‘No.’  I say, ’You look in the book.’  He say, ‘No.’  We each take hold of the cloth.  I have a knife.  I cut cloth in two.  I give heem half.  I take half.  I say, ’You take half; I take half.’  He say, ‘Go to hell!’”