losing our reputation as successful trial counsel. Why not beg off?"

"Let me hear the story first," answered Mr. Tutt. "Angelo sounds like a
good sport. I have a mild affection for him already."

He reached into the lower compartment of his desk and lifted out a
tumbler and a bottle of malt extract, which he placed carefully at his
elbow. Then he leaned back again expectantly.

"It is a simple and naive story," began Tutt, seating himself in the
chair reserved for paying clients--that is to say, one which did not
have the two front legs sawed off an inch or so in order to make
lingering uncomfortable. "A plain, unvarnished tale. Our client is one
who makes an honest living by blacking shoes near the entrance to the
Brooklyn Bridge. He is one of several hundred original Tonys who conduct
shoe-shining emporiums."

"Emporia," corrected his partner, pouring out a tumbler of malt extract.

"He formed an attachment for a certain young lady," went on Tutt,
undisturbed, "who had previously had some sort of love affair with
Crocedoro, as a result of which her social standing had become slightly
impaired. In a word Tomasso jilted her. Angelo saw, pitied and loved
her, took her for better or for worse, and married her."

"For which," interjected Mr. Tutt, "he is entitled to everyone's
respect."

"Quite so!" agreed Tutt. "Now Tomasso, though not willing to marry the
girl himself, seems to have resented the idea of having anyone else do